


Starlight

by supercantaloupe



Category: Oklahoma! - Rodgers/Hammerstein
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Popstar, Complicated Relationships, Country & Western, Country Music, Curly gets Discovered(tm) as a singer and it makes her deeply upset, F/M, Inspired by Music, Love Triangles, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romantic Tension, Slow Burn, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenage Drama, Teenagers, girl talk, i guess, ill probably add tags as they become relevant but no promises bc im very bad at tagging shit, more like country star, sorry yall. im goin there, the inherent intimacy of sharing fruit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 29,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21897451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supercantaloupe/pseuds/supercantaloupe
Summary: Well it's a winding road, when you're in the lost and foundYou're a lover, I'm a runner, we go 'round 'n 'roundAnd I love you but I leave you, I don't want you but I need youYou know it's you who calls me back here, baby...Curly Mclain is suddenly, somehow, a famous country singer, travelling and performing and generally being a star. Of course, while everyone back home is proud of their little hometown hero, Claremore just isn't the quite same without him when he's gone. And some feel his absences -- and his presences -- more strongly than others.
Relationships: Ado Annie Carnes/Will Parker, Curly McLain/Laurey Williams, Laurey Williams/Jud Fry
Comments: 9
Kudos: 16





	1. Colder Weather

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. Here goes nothin'.
> 
> Starlight au! This is something I have been thinking out for months (shoutout to my good friend Meg for her help, support, and general enthusiasm with the project <3). And I have plans for it! Hopefully my drive will keep up enough to see this one through to completion. I like it a lot and can't wait to share my ideas with y'all...
> 
> Fic summary quote is from the song "Colder Weather" by Zac Brown Band. Expect more references to theirs and other artists' work in this fic, because I'm a yeehaw bitch at heart and grew up listening to a lot of country music and still maintain a fondness for it today. I think I'm gonna try to use a song title and lyric for every chapter title and summary as I feel it's thematically appropriate but we'll see if that keeps up, lol. And like usual, I'm using the 2019 Broadway revival of Oklahoma! as my main jumping off point for character design/portrayals and inspiration. 
> 
> Edit: As each chapter is uploaded I'll add the related song to the following playlist for you listening pleasure.  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6mQOY9BTqasSvMZuEaDjDw?si=JDbNu_JcTd6cXFJ4YJSgVw 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He said I wanna see you again,_   
>  _But I'm stuck in colder weather,_   
>  _Maybe tomorrow will be better,_   
>  _Can I call you then?_

Crickets chirped in the cool night outside. Laurey sat on her bed, trying to enjoy a quiet night in for herself. She was hunched over, very carefully and deliberately painting her toenails a light shimmery pink. Her hair was down, a mess of curls like a cloud on her neck and shoulders. Her pajama pants and tank top were old and worn-out, a consequence of being longtime favorites of hers. The little radio played from her desk nearby, tuned to a station from outside Kansas City. At this hour they mostly played sentimental country tunes.

_ “...he said I wanna see you again, but I’m stuck in colder weather, maybe tomorrow will be better, can I call you then…?”  _ she sang along softly to herself. She enjoyed singing, enjoyed this kind of music more than she’d admit, but she’d never had the courage or inclination to share it with other folks, to perform. It was oddly personal, music.  _ “...she said you’re a ramblin’ man, you ain’t ever gonna change…”  _ The reception wasn’t great in her little room and the music occasionally crackled in and out.  _ “...and you were born for leavin’, born for leavin’...”  _

The song drew to its ending. Laurey dipped the little brush into the bottle of nail polish and wiped the excess paint on the rim before methodically applying it. The next song began to play without interruption. A new one, something she hadn’t heard before. Acoustic guitar strings picked out an accompaniment, followed soon by a crooning voice. Laurey had to pause.

It was a love song, but aren’t they all? And he sang about a girl he knew, or knows, but don’t they all? Something was different, though, with this one. He sang of how she let her hair loose and untamed at the end of a day. How the freckles on her cheeks stuck out in the sun or when she laughed. How she looked most beautiful at night in her well-worn pajamas. Specific.

Laurey stared at the little radio on her desk, held still like a statue. She recognized the voice, the guitar. She recognized what he sang about. It made her heart flutter, lose control a bit, and she didn’t like it. Too close for comfort.

The song ended with that gentle guitar again. The radio host began to talk; Laurey drifted back down to Earth. “...the newest single from Curly Mclain, that young rising star out of Oklahoma -- and if you liked that one, don’t forget to get those last-minute tickets that just went up soon before they sell out ‘cause they’re goin’ quick, he’s comin’ ‘round right here t’ Kansas City at the--” 

Laurey leaned over and clicked the radio off, letting the silence envelop her. She frowned and stared at nothing in particular. It had been just over a year since he’d been  _ discovered _ . Only a year and he’s already playing on the radio, playing to sold-out concerts across the country. Sure, she’d known since they were only little kids he was a great musician, probably gonna be real successful one day, but they’d never expected it so soon. Not even out of high school yet and he’s already a star. And wasn’t that just the talk of their little backwater town, every day, all she hears about is that lucky little twerp. The one who made it out. 

She huffed and went back to painting her nails. She didn’t miss him. She didn’t need him. He’s just a dumb musician. A _ player _ . There was nothing so  _ special _ about him that she should care if he stays or if he goes--

Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone, vibrating a notification tone on her desk. Picking her head up, she put the bottle of nail polish aside and leaned over to check it.

_ “listen to the radio tonight?”  _ the text read. It was from her best friend, Ado Annie. Laurey didn’t respond. The typing notification popped up.  _ “played 1 of curlys new songs” _

_ “he’s got a lot of new songs. can’t hear em all. what do i care of that?”  _ Laurey texted back.

_ “was a love song”  _ Laurey could practically hear Ado Annie giggling through the phone.  _ “know u like those” _

_ “i didn’t hear it.”  _

_ “u should look it up”  _ Annie insisted. She’d certainly put two and two together herself while listening, just like Laurey. Ugh.  _ “think ull like it :)” _

Laurey rolled her eyes. She was about to start typing when another text came in, this time from someone new. Someone old.

_ “u up?”  _

She sighed.  _ “i’m up.” _

_ “they played my new song tonite”  _ he said. Laurey’s expression flattened. That’s just all anyone talks about now, isn’t it. Especially to her.  _ “did u hear it?” _

_ “no.”  _ she lied.

He started typing, stopped for a second, then started again.  _ “oh. well i think ud like this one” _

_ “i’m about to go to bed, curly. i’m not gonna listen tonight.” _

_ “wait”  _ he replied, knowing she was about to turn her phone on silent and put it away for real.  _ “gotta ask u something” _

_ “well?” _

_ “im comin home next weekend”  _ Laurey watched her phone screen, silent.  _ “heard folksre gonna throw a party. u wanna go?”  _ Yes. No. Maybe.

_ “i’ll think about it.” _

_ “itll be fun” _

_ “you know i ain't a party girl.” _

_ “liar” _

_ “what do you know? been so busy on tours nowadays. always flying around and honking like a goose.” _

_ “i know u since we was little”  _ he insisted. Laurey couldn’t deny that. He  _ did  _ know her, maybe too well for her own comfort.  _ “ur so mean to me, laurey. i try to be a gentleman and ask u out to a nice fun party. dont want u to come if ur gonna be so mean” _

_ “you whine about me being mean and say you don’t want me there right after you invite me, hm. i’m getting mixed signals.” _

_ “damn she-mule” _

_ “you want me to come or don’t you?” _

Typing notification. Pause. Typing.  _ “u should come”  _ he finally settled on sending.  _ “itll be fun” _

_ “doesn’t answer the question”  _ She waited for him to say something back, but when he didn’t, she relented.  _ “said i’ll think about it.” _

_ “let me know” _

_ “maybe. i’m going to bed.” _

_ “gn” _

Laurey clicked her phone off and set it down on the bed with a sigh. She wrapped her arms around her legs and pulled them in, resting her head on her knees and gazing out the window. The stars were out and shining. Her head swam, Decisions, decisions. 

Ugh. Too much thinking. She shook her head and turned the radio back on, fiddling with the tuning dial until she found another station playing something more upbeat and still in decent reception. She went back to painting her nails -- she still had a few left to go. And she tried not to think anymore, not tonight. To only moderate success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and summary by the Zac Brown Band.


	2. Postcard from Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It's like a call back from your fortune teller,_   
>  _She read your cards upside down;_   
>  _The meanest thing you ever did is come around_   
>  _And now, I'm ruined, I'm ruined_

The mall was never overwhelmingly busy on weekdays, but afternoons when school was out plenty of teenagers would come just to wander around, hang out, and loiter, for lack of a better place at which to wander around, hang out, and loiter. It didn’t make work particularly interesting, but it wasn’t particularly demanding, either. As good a way as any for Laurey to waste a couple hours after school. At least here she made some money, even if it was a rather piddling amount. She mostly refolded and replaced clothes on their racks and shelves, rang up the occasional sale at the register, and waited around for her shift to end. Sometimes Ado Annie would stop by, when she wasn’t busy working herself, and they’d chat or goof off to pass the time, but today it was someone else who’d come to bother her. 

“Well, howdy-do, miss Laurey,” Curly chirped, the door making its irritating little chime noise that notified employees when a customer walked through. Laurey looked up from the sweaters she was folding and, seeing him, threw her head back to the ceiling and sighed dramatically. Curly grinned and ambled over to her with his hands in his pockets. “Fancy meetin’ you here.” She groaned, grimaced. She hadn't expected him back so soon, at least, hadn't expected to _see_ him so soon.

“Did Annie tell you I was workin’ here now?” She narrowed her eyes. “Need t’ know if I oughta give ‘er my _thanks_ for that,” she said, punctuating the sentiment by continuing to fold far more aggressively than necessary. Curly chuckled.

“Maybe I just come in here t’ shop fer myself,” he said, raising an eyebrow. Laurey made a show of looking around the store. They mostly sold girly accessories and impractical, “fashionable” clothing. She gave him an unimpressed ‘who do you think you’re fooling’ look. “An’ had the _grand_ coincidence of runnin’ int’ you.” 

“You knowed I was workin’ here ‘fore you set foot on the place, you lyin’ dog.” He shrugged in response. Laurey scoffed and finished with the folding. “What’re you gonna buy, then, hm? Since y’ came just t’ shop fer yerself.”

He pursed his lips and glanced around. She moved to the checkout desk and he followed, feigning deep thought and interest in the accessories for sale. He picked up several items and put them on the desk. “How ‘bout this thing?” He said, holding up a tacky slap bracelet. “‘Cept I don’t reckon I know how’s it work.”

Laurey smirked slightly. “I c’n show you. Gimme yer hand.” She took it from him and unrolled it. Curly looked pleased with himself, until she slapped it on so hard on his wrist it stung like the devil himself.

_“Christ, Laurey,”_ he whined, rubbing his wrist with his other hand, convinced it would leave a mark. 

“What? I showed y’ how it’s done. Ain’t that what’chu wanted?” She laughed at him. Really, what had he even been expecting?

Slipping the slap bracelet off and putting it back, he rifled through the pile of cheap accessories on the desk. He couldn’t help but love that laugh of hers. “Think I’ll buy me all a’ these scrunchies.”

Laurey looked fed up, and just a bit amused as well. “Uh huh. An’ what exactly are you plannin’ t’ do with ‘em?”

“Dunno. Maybe I’ll grow my hair out like you,” he looked like he was trying to be charming. 

Laurey rolled her eyes. “...Fine.”

Curly looked smug. “Oh, so y’ like long-haired fellas, huh--?”

“That _ain’t_ what I said,” she cut back, swatting at him. Her manager would probably get upset at her for being rude to the customer, but, hey, he wasn’t a customer. He was a nuisance. “Y’ should buy ‘em all, if y’ _really_ wanna take me out.” She raised an eyebrow at him. He seemed slightly caught off guard. “Pad my paycheck.”

“Who said anythin’ ‘bout--?” He started, then cleared his throat. Smooth, Mclain, smooth. He composed himself. “Geez, you must be some kinda gold-digger, ain’t’chu? Wanna go out with the big country star just fer ‘is fame n’ fortune, huh?”

She played along, for now, though he wouldn’t realize how his bragging could actually cut. “Am I s’pposed t’ be offended by that? The more you buy the more they pay me. Buy ‘em all. I make minimum wage. Gold earrings look nice on me.”

“They do.” He agreed.

“I know they do.” Truth be told, she enjoyed their banter like this, though she’d never admit it. There was an undeniable twinge of disappointment in her when the door chimed again and a pair of girls came in. Laurey picked herself up a bit, having been leaning on the counter, and cleared her throat, putting on a more professional air. “I c’n help you ladies in a moment,” she said, shoving the items on the counter back at Curly. “Put these back, dummy. Less’n yer _actually_ plannin’ on buyin’ this crap.” She ordered, hushed. He chuckled and began to put them back in their places. Laurey straightened her nametag and breathed, coming out from behind the desk and walking over to the girls. “Can I help you find anythin’ today?” She asked in her best customer service voice. The girls glanced past her and fidgeted, whispering to each other. She didn’t recognize them, they must not be locals. Everybody knew everybody else around here, so it was easy to tell who was new. Ever since Curly rose to fame there’d been an influx of tourists through their little patch of country. Not too many, not overwhelming, but enough to boost some business (especially when they drove into town right past the family farm and stopped by the produce stand), bring some new life into the town. It was weird, for Laurey. She’d grown up here her whole life, gotten used to the sleepy, tight-knit community. She didn’t dislike the new energy, but it was different now. Not completely. But slightly, just enough to feel a little off. Plus, it was always weird now to see posters and CDs and things with her childhood friend’s face and name plastered all over them everywhere now. 

“Ah, no, we’re just looking--” one of the girls replied, distracted by something. The other interrupted her.

“Is that Curly Mclain?” 

Curly, from over by the register, heard his name and picked his head up, glancing over. Laurey glanced back at him, frowning. Her cheeks felt hot. Always recognized. 

He grinned, slightly humble, always charming. “Howdy, ladies,” he greeted, waving at them. The girls looked excited and came over. Laurey pursed her lips and tried not to let it get to her, looking around to occupy herself, trying to find some clothes that needed sorting or _something._ Too bad she got all of the inventory done already...curse her stupid diligent work ethic.

Curly leaned on the counter as he chatted with the girls. Laurey came back over the register, having nothing better to do, and listened with a slight frown. He didn’t have his hat with him, for once, and his floppy hair fell down around his head and face in an irritatingly charming way. One of the girls was asking for an autograph. “Ah, well, shore thing, if’n I had a--” he started, interrupting himself when he noticed Laurey already holding out a sharpie to him. “--Ah. Thank y’ kindly, ma’am,” he said, surreptitiously quirking an eyebrow at her and smirking. She glanced away. “So, where’re you two gals from?” he asked conversationally, taking the pieces of paper they handed him to sign. Laurey rolled her eyes. He really kicked the charm up to an almost obnoxious level around fans. Exaggerated his drawl. Ugh.

“Kansas,” they giggled. "Come in from outta town t’ visit." Laurey noticed his face brighten. A telltale sign he’d gotten an _idea._

“Well now,” he said, glancing around, almost conspiratorial. “Lemme let’chu in on a little local secret.” The girls looked on with rapt attention. Laurey watched him closely, quietly. “Headin’ west outta town if’n y’ take Claremore Pike, you’ll pass a lil’ place called the Williams farm. Maybe y’ passed it on yer way in. It don’ look like much but y’ jist _gotta_ stop by the produce stand. Getchurselves some peaches, if they’s still in season, an’ some lemonade. Maybe a pie too, if’n they’s sellin’ ‘em. All homegrown an’ homemade. Ain’t nothin’ better.” He handed the signed papers back to them with a wink. 

“Wow...definitely,” the girls agreed, thrilled at being let in on a secret by _the_ Curly Mclain himself. They thanked him enthusiastically and turned to go. 

“Thank y’ kindly,” he said, waving. “Take care!” After they left the store, rolled his head around and gave Laurey a smug grin. She looked at him, amused, a little speechless, and, frankly, impressed. “How’d I do?” he asked, almost teasingly.

“...You rat,” she said, giving him a shove and laughing. “You _dog._ I cain’t believe you done that. Gimme my pen back.” She swiped the sharpie right out of his hand.

He laughed back and stood up. “Well, _you_ wanted me t’ pad yer pockets.” She shoved him again, good-natured and playful.

She exhaled, smiling warmly. “Thanks.”

“‘Course. ‘S true, y’know. Wouldn’t tell no lies.” 

“Tol’ one just there. You liar.” 

“Y’ do make the best pies.”

“Too bad y’ told ‘em t’ go buy ‘em up, now they ain’t gonna be none fer you.” 

“Jist gotta make another then, jist fer me.”

“You wish.”

He chuckled again, smiling contentedly down at her. There was something more than just friendly affection in his eyes, but Laurey denied it. He rubbed the back of his neck, mussed with some of his curls. “I don’ suppose I could c’nvince you t’ hang out a bit, once yer shift is up?” he asked, in a more timid tone than before. “Stop by th’ Baskin Robbins, ‘r, head on down t’ th’ movie theater…?”

Laurey’s smile melted as she considered this. “...Naw. Cain’t. Gotta git home,” she explained, simply. “Got chores, work, you know...an’ _customers,_ what with you sendin’ ‘em all ‘round now.”

“‘M sure Eller can spare you fer one evenin’,” Curly argued. “...I’ll pay,” he added, thinking that might’ve been her reservation. And he was right, at least, partially. She didn’t make a lot here, or from the farmstand, can’t go spending it all the time on ice cream and tickets to bad movies. But what he didn’t think was how she’d hardly let him pay for her, hardly let him be so much of a gentleman. Lest he think they could be something. Lest she start to believe it herself.

“No,” she shook her head. “Sorry. Not t’night.”

“Rain check?”

“Maybe.” Sigh. “Maybe.”

He puffed out his cheeks. "Well...can I still count on seein' you at the party this weekend?"

"I said I'll think about it."

"Gave you a couple days t' think about it--"

"Well I need a few _more,_ then."

"Aw, c'mon--"

_"Curly,"_ she said firmly, frowning.

Curly held his tongue before their bickering turned, took a breath and let it out through his nose. He glanced down; the look in her eyes was hard to meet directly. He tapped his knuckles on the counter. “Alright...guess I’ll see y’ later then.” He nodded a goodbye and headed out.

“Yeah. See y’ round,” she returned, not unkindly, but not so warmly either. Tepid. The door chime mocked her as he left. Laurey felt a pang of guilt, regret, frustration. Now alone, the store empty, she buried her fingers in her hair and hunched down, groaning loudly. Mad at herself. Mad at him. Just mad. Maybe another time, but, god, how long was she gonna keep stalling like this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and summary by the Band Perry.


	3. Red Solo Cup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Red solo cup,_   
>  _I lift you up,_   
>  _Proceed to party,_   
>  _Proceed to party!_

Their town was small but the community was strong, and everybody was oh so proud of their local celebrity. They practically rolled out the red carpet for him when he came home that week, returning from his tour. It wasn’t grand, certainly not compared to the bright lights and loud mics of stadium venues in the likes of Kansas City and Louisville, but with their unique brand of midwest-southern comfort and the welcome of finally being, well,  _ home _ again, Curly couldn’t ask for a better party than the one the folks at home were throwing for him that evening.

He came into town and said goodbye to his managers and crew in the afternoon, dropping by the ranch house to greet his parents and brothers first, then relax a little bit from the road before freshening and prettying himself up for the party. His fashion sense had always leaned a bit too strongly  _ cowboy _ to be considered stylish in most contexts, but this past year of fame had already taught him much about presentation. And he had people to impress tonight. He opted for a dark blue button-down embroidered with handsome red-and-white flowers, a neat pair of jeans with a silver buckle on the belt, a nice dark-colored hat, and a dressier pair of boots. He even went so far as to dab on some makeup, a practice he’d grown well accustomed to by now for concerts and interviews. Still cowboy style, but, refined, handsome. 

The party was thrown at the community center in the middle of town; aside from someone’s old barn, it was the largest place to host a hoedown. Curly drove in with his family (despite being famous, he was still the runt of the Mclain litter, and forced to squish in the backseat between his two brothers). He fussed over a crease in his shirt when they arrived before going inside. Cheers, warm festival lighting, and the smells of chili and cornbread all greeted him as he walked through the door. Old friends and familiar faces alike clapped him on the back, shook his hand, asked him how the year had gone for him, told him how much they missed him, how proud they were. And Curly beamed; he’d always been a social butterfly, and had gotten already used to the spotlight of fame. He could navigate a party with grace. Take a compliment, listen through the din, answer the same questions again and again, and do it all with a cheerful smile. And he liked it; he was in his element. And he liked this even better than the parties of touring; this was smaller, but warmer, more familiar.

But he had something else on his mind tonight, which clung in the back of his mind as partygoers continued to trickle in. He kept an eye on the door, searching for something, and he lit up when he found it.

“‘Scuse me,” he dismissed himself as politely as he could. “Gotta say hello t’ somebody.” With a tip of his hat he stole away, weaving through party guests and dodging their attention for the time being until he caught up to what,  _ who _ he’d spotted. “Lau-rey Williams!” he whooped, singsong, to catch her attention. She stopped and glanced behind her, then turned around. He beamed at her; she didn’t exactly return the same smile.

“Hey, Curly,” she greeted, more tepidly than he was expecting. He chuckled once, beginning to notice her lack of enthusiasm.

“Ain’t seen  _ you _ in a while!” he laughed, jokingly, and suddenly nervous. “I, uh -- I’m glad y’ came.” 

“Yeah...me too,” Laurey started. She looked aside and gently grabbed someone’s arm. He glanced at her, then turned around, looking at Curly with an odd expression. “This is Jud. Don’ think you’ve met yet,” she explained. 

The boy looked a bit uncomfortable in his own skin. He looked Curly over. Curly didn’t recognize him, but they looked about the same age. And the way Laurey held his arm… 

Curly sniffed and put away his frown. He stuck his hand out to shake. “Howdy. Curly Mclain.”

Perhaps a bit guarded, Jud took his hand and shook it. “So I gathered...Jud Fry.”

“New in town?” Curly tried to be amicable. He watched Laurey almost as much as he watched her date, and her date did the same. 

“Got in end a’ last summer,” he said simply.

“‘Round when you took off,” Laurey added. She wasn’t smiling. Neither was Jud. Nor Curly. Laurey looked back to Jud and patted his arm. “Get us somethin’ t’ drink?” she requested. He stole one more glance at Curly, then nodded, lips pressed together. She let go and he turned and disappeared, heading for the refreshments table.

“Well...welcome, I s’pose,” Curly said as he left, rubbing the back of his neck, not used to a conversation getting so icy, so awkward. Her eyes stuck on the singer, warmed him like he was standing too close to a stove. He sniffed, trying not to let it get to him, or let the awkwardness creep in. “Who’s that Jud feller, then?” he asked, doing a remarkable job sounding simply curious, friendly (well, remarkable for him, anyway). 

Laurey bit her lip, just slightly. “He goes to our school, y’know. Guess you haven’t seen him,” she said, something pointed in her tone, the way she arched her eyebrow. He’d missed most of junior year. Touring. (Who lets a 17 year old  _ tour, _ anyway?) 

“Well, y’know,” he said, chuckling once again from nerves. “Been busy an’ all.”

“Mm, real busy,” Laurey agreed. At that moment, Jud reappeared, weaving through the crowds, keeping his head down and focused on the two cans of soda in his hands. He came up and stopped beside Laurey, pulling the tab to open one of the cans and handing it to her. Curly watched her say a quick “thanks,” take the soda, lift it to her lips, sip. Arm hooked back around Jud's. He was quiet, lips still pressed together, eyes looking over Curly like he was studying an old novel for English class. Curly had always liked attention, been good at commanding it, thrived under it, the limelight was second nature to him even after only a year; yet now, with both Jud’s and Laurey’s eyes trained on him like this, he felt unsure of himself, shaken. 

Someone pushed their way through the crowd and came over then, grabbing onto Curly’s arm and giving his sleeve a tug. He turned his head to see his mother, nodding with her head back the way she came. “There you are,” she started. “C’mere, folks wanna say hi t’ you!” she insisted, giving his sleeve a tug again. He chuckled, again with a bit of nerves, and reached a hand up to brush away her grip.

“Comin’, momma,” he chirped, glancing back at Laurey and Jud. Their faces were unreadable to him. “Guess we’ll hafta catch up later,” he said, trying to flash a smile, though he wasn’t sure what his success there was to the gesture. Before Momma Mclain could grab him by the ear and drag him away herself, he turned and ducked away from the pair, disappearing into the party. They watched him go, quietly. Laurey drew in a breath and let it out slowly, took her arm back, had another drink from her soda.

“...Interestin’ feller,” Jud said after a moment. His voice was level and low. 

“Mm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and summary by Toby Keith.
> 
> Yes I am aware of how silly this one is.


	4. Why Don’t We Just Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _For my two left feet, and our two hearts beating,_   
>  _Nobody's going to see us go crazy,_   
>  _So baby, why don't we just dance? ___

“I don’ get it, Will,” Curly sighed, leaning against the wall and fiddling with the tab of his soda can. Will Parker stood beside him, also leaning, and looking out over the party. The band was in full swing, and half the party’s attendees were out on the floor dancing to the jig being strummed out. It was perhaps the first moment all evening Curly had for some relative peace and quiet, and certainly while he was glad to spend it with his best friend, there was someone else he’d rather be talking to. “Thought she liked me.” 

“Mm,” Will replied, making a face and scanning the room again from their position in the back. “I don’ even see her,” he commented. 

“I think she’s avoidin’ me. I’ve barely seen ‘er all night.”

“Maybe she’s avoidin’ everyone. Maybe she’s just at home?”

“Naw, I saw ‘er when I got ‘ere.” 

“Maybe she left early?”

Curly jutted his chin in the direction of the dance floor. “Well, there’s Aunt Eller.”

“Hm,” said Will, pursing his lips in thought. “Maybe she went home ‘lone. ‘R with somebody else.” 

Curly’s frown set in deeper. He sipped his soda and glared into the crowd once again, although he was relieved to spot that Jud feller again, and all on his lonesome, too. He stood looking sullen by himself next to the refreshments table. At least if she’d left she hadn’t left with  _ him, _ Curly thought. “With who, Ado Annie?”

Will looked like he was concentrating very hard on the idea. They couldn’t quite spot her either, although being so short, she was usually tough to find in a crowd, unless she was making herself the center of attention, which she was often known to do. “Ado Annie likes a good party. Don’ think she would leave early, myself,” he said. 

“Maybe.”

The band finished their number and a small round of applause and cheering came from the partygoers on the dance floor. An older man made his way over to the microphone by the band while the strings re-tuned, and as he was saying something about folks getting squared up and paired off, someone broke from the crowd and came wheeling over to the pair of boys by the back wall. Grinning in her ruffled yellow party dress, Ado Annie whooped a “Yoo-hoo!” as she raced over. Will’s eyes lit up, and, grinning, he stepped forward and grabbed her hand as she approached to pull her in for a kiss. Curly chuckled. It was an over-the-top display, sure, but then again, they were an over-the-top couple. After a moment Will detached himself from her lips and stood back upright. “Paw’s about to call a hoedown,” she said brightly. Still holding his hand, she tugged him back a little towards the dance floor. “Let’s dance!”

“Woah, Susanna,” Will said, still grinning. “Hang on, ‘m talkin’ with Curly.” 

“Well he c’n come too!” she replied, and the couple both glanced up at him. He smiled, but held a hand up dismissively.

“Naw, ‘s fine. You go on ahead. I’ll stay here,” he said.

“Aw, c’mon, Curly,” Annie protested. “‘S a party!” Fer  _ you! _ Y’ gotta dance, least a little.”

“I don’ even have a partner,” he chuckled, trying not to sound disappointed.

“Well we c’n fix that!” Annie exclaimed, using her free hand to turn herself around and look for an unoccupied person. “Hey,  _ Gertie!”  _ she shouted, quite commandingly, upon noticing a girl in the bright green dress inspecting the snacks on the table nearby. She glanced up at the sound of her name and looked over curiously. “Curly needs a dance partner!” Annie explained. Curly looked vaguely sheepish. 

Gertie smiled and laughed, then shouted back a “Yeow, alright. Let’s dance, cowboy,” holding out a hand. 

Annie looked back at him and grinned. “Yer welcome!” she chirped, before wheeling quickly off to the dance floor with Will at her side. Curly took a breath and let it out, then, setting his soda down on the table, went over and took Gertie’s hand to lead her to the floor as well.

The fiddle had just picked up the tune as they reached the edge of the dance floor. Up at the mic, Andrew Carnes played caller, tapping the beat with his toe and giving out instructions to the crowd to square up and greet their partners. Gertie grinned at Curly as she curtsied; he bowed, and they hooked arms and began to circle around in their group. Carnes was a good caller, and the band kept a lively, steady tune going; it was easy to turn his brain off and just follow the steps. As the dance picked up he even found himself having fun, twirling his partner and swinging with her round in a circle. And blindly following the instructions as they were called, Curly soon found himself swapping partners. He looked up, or rather, down, suddenly finding himself swinging Ado Annie along with him. She grinned bright and cheeky.

“Yeow, havin’ fun yet?” she asked as they circled the group side by side.

“Shore, yeah,” he admitted with a laugh. It was hard to hold a conversation during a square dance, so he didn’t bother trying, instead choosing to focus on the calls and his own two feet, and pulling Annie alongside with him.

“Yer welcome!” she chirped again. 

After another round Carnes called a center star; Curly left Annie at the outer ring and came into the center, linking hands with the other three men of the group and circling around together. In front of him was Will, strutting like a peacock. But, turning his head, Curly noticed Jud on the opposite side; they locked eyes for a brief moment before the next move was called and they split away, moving back to the outside again. Once more they swapped partners, and this time Curly found himself arm and arm, hand in hand with one miss Laurey Williams. He blinked, suddenly nervous. He hadn’t noticed noticed her in their group, had hardly seen her all night, and now she was dancing with him. Oh, lord.

Her face was calm, focused, and hard to read. She didn’t move with so much bounce in her step when her hand was in his, when he held one to the small of her back, when he twirled her round and her skirt flared. 

“Hey,” he said to her.

“Hey,” she said back, meeting his eye only for a second. 

“I ain’t seen y’--” he started.

“--Gotta hear the caller,” Laurey interrupted. Curly exhaled and held his tongue. Unfortunately, she was right. Can’t square dance if you can’t hear the steps. He spun her around again, and then they swapped partners once more. He ended up with a girl he’d seen in passing but whose name he hadn’t ever learned. He danced with her, trying not to feel bothered, trying to find the rhythm and bounce in his step again. Somehow he’d misplaced it. Glancing across the square he couldn’t help but see that Laurey had found hers again, now in Will’s arms and grinning and laughing at some joke he was no doubt making. 

After a few more turns they swapped partners one last time. Gertie spun back, laughing, into Curly’s arms. He put on a smile for the last of the dance but it was hard to find the right place to look. Up at the mic, Carnes called the final steps and in a few bars the band played their last chord. As the dancers across the floor finished there were a few scattered cheers and some light applause for the band and the caller, and light chatter soon arose to fill the relative quiet after the music stopped. Curly stepped back and bowed slightly out of politeness, Gertie curtsied in return but threw her head back and laughed.

“Whew, that was fun, ain’t it!” she said, throwing an arm around Curly’s shoulder. “Never knew you danced, Mclain!” Her laugh was loud and whinnying, sharp and distinctive, and a little much for him to be heard from right next to his ear.

“Well, I ain’t  _ much _ of a dancer,” he objected, chuckling to relieve some tension. He glanced around, but with Gertie’s arm around him it was hard to steal away so quickly. A few feet away Will and Ado Annie were back to kissing, with him practically sitting on her lap. The girl whose name Curly didn’t know was laughing with her partner, that kid he vaguely recalled from the previous year (or was it two?) as having been some kind of exchange student or something, who was putting on quite the charm for her. And opposite from himself and Gertie he glanced over just in time to see the bouncing blue of Laurey’s skirt disappear once again into the crowd. Jud stood alone, awkward, and confused for a second, then began following in the same direction. Curly frowned, just a little, and couldn’t help staring.

“Oh, I cain't believe that, Curly, could’a danced me all over the meadow tonight!” Gertie insisted, again with a laugh. 

“Mm, yeah, I gotta--” he said, distracted, brushing her arm off of his shoulder and stepping forward. He tried to follow in the same direction, where Laurey had gone and Jud trailed, but they were quickly lost in the bodies and spotty colored lighting of the dance floor. He glanced around but found nothing, at least, nothing he was looking for, and exhaled in frustration. Then, remembering Gertie, he turned on his heel and put on a brighter expression. “‘M gonna go freshen up,” he said, sticking his thumb in the direction of the restrooms down the hallway from the corner of the room. “Catch up ‘ith you,” he added quickly, before heading off on his own.

She smiled and simply held up a hand, wiggling her fingers at him in goodbye. “See you ‘round, cowboy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and summary by Josh Turner.


	5. Keep Me in Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Keep me in mind_   
>  _Somewhere down the road, you might get lonely_   
>  _Keep me in mind_   
>  _And I pray someday that you will love me only_

Curly ran the tap to wash his hands. Letting the faucet run, he leaned on the sink and stared at his reflection in the mirror. The perpetually-exhausted look in his eyes was back and threatened to betray to the public simply how much he wanted to collapse in bed right about now. But public appearance was important to a pop star, dammit, and at any rate there was no way his family would let him leave before the whole event was finished. So he sighed and let his head drop, then dipped his hands under the faucet and splashed some cool water over his face. He let it drip over the sink and combed his wet fingers through his curls with another sigh, then reached for a paper towel. He dabbed the most of the water off and inspected himself once again in the mirror. After a moment he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small makeup palette and began to touch up what had been smudged earlier in the evening or by his rinsing off.

After perhaps a minute of peace to himself, the door pushed open. "...'s like, I gotta get practice in, an' she _knows_ I need the car fer--" Will said as he walked in and held the door open for Annie, who wheeled in after, but cut himself off when he noticed Curly at the sink. "'lo again, Curly."

"Howdy," Curly glanced at them through the mirror then turned his head to look at them properly. He frowned at Ado Annie in particular. "Um, the gal's room is the next door over," he pointed out.

"'s fine, I don' hafta go," she replied simply. Curly watched Will pull her over to the counter with the sinks, then lift her up and sit her down on the edge with a giggle.

"This is a men's room," Curly reiterated.

"I like men," she replied, putting a hand on Will's dumbly grinning face. Curly merely sighed and went back to the mirror. 

"'ey, why the long face, Curly?" Will asked, clapping him on the back. Curly grunted and made a face. "Y' look glum."

"'m fine."

"No, you ain't, I ain't been yer best friend fer this long without bein' able to tell when somethin's buggin' you." Curly looked vaguely irritated at that, because he was right. "C'mon. You was havin' fun while we was dancin', I saw it." 

"It was fine."

"Was it Gertie? She seemed t' like--"

"No," Curly interrupted tersely.

"Bet it was Laurey," Annie chimed in. Curly looked mad for a second, and bent his head down with a growl. 

_"Fine. Yes._ It was Laurey," he snapped, irritated suddenly. "I don' _get_ it. I thought we was close. She acts like an ol' friend not two days ago an' now it's like she can't _stand_ me. Like, what did I _do?_ Didn't do _nothin'_ as far as I c'n make out, but she acts like she _hates me_ or somethin'!"

"Oh, I bet she's still mad at you," Annie chirped, perfectly cheerful.

Curly was puzzled, and still upset. He turned and squinted at her. "What? Mad fer _what?"_

"'Cuz you stood her up last year." Annie was playing with Will's hair and didn't seem to register the air of shocked confusion that washed over Curly.

"...what? I don' remem--" he stammered, but was interrupted again by the door opening again. In walked the boy from the dance, the exchange kid or whatever he was, Curly couldn't recall his name. 

"Hi, Ali Hakim," Annie greeted cheerfully.

"Howdy, Hak'," Will nodded at him over his shoulder. Ali nodded back, then looked at Curly, who was still standing and looking dumb before the mirror, makeup palette in hand.

"...you doin' yer _makeup?"_ He asked, a little derisively.

"Yeah. What of it?" Curly answered with annoyance.

Ali grunted. "Not real macho for a big country star, is it?"

"Oh, grow a pair and get over yerself already," Curly griped. "It's just a bit of makeup. Girls like it, anyway." 

"'s true," Annie added helpfully, and grinning at Will.

"Whatever," said Ali Hakim, rolling his eyes and walking round to the urinals. Curly still frowned at him.

"Wait."

"What?"

"You don'-- you don' have any problem with _her_ bein' in here?" Curly asked, indicating Annie with his head.

"Ado Annie in the men's room? Old news," Ali replied, sounding bored. Will snorted. Annie giggled. Curly was stuck on this thought. "She's in here a lot, dude--" Ali started to explain, but Curly shook his head and his hand, not wanting to hear it. He returned to the more pressing matter at hand.

"Wait, okay, backup," said Curly, closing the palette. He turned to look at Annie directly. "Laurey's mad at me."

"Probably," Annie said simply, still focusing on playing with Will's hair.

"Because I. Stood her up?"

"Yep."

Curly was dumbfounded. "When the _fuck_ was this?

"Last year. When y' took off fer yer tour." Curly blinked. Annie finally glanced at him and noticed the rather distraught confusion on his face. "You didn' know?"

"No, what _should_ I know?"

Annie shared a glance with Will, pursing her lips. With a flush, Ali came back around and inserted himself into the conversation, using the sink between the couple and the cowboy to wash his hands. "She was gonna ask you out, dude."

Curly blinked again. "What?"

"Yeah man. You didn't know?"

"No, _Ali,_ I _didn't_ know that." 

"Well you took off right before she could," Annie pointed out.

"I remember that. She was pissed at you," Ali added with a laugh. Curly shot him a glare. Ali merely shook the water from his hands and reached for a paper towel. "Wasn't interested in anybody else, wouldn't pay _me_ no more heed anyhow--"

"You dated Laurey?" Will asked, tilting his head. Curly looked vaguely offended.

"Eh, I _tried._ She's hot. Asked 'er out, but she ain't interested. Left it after a while, figured it wasn't worth it, she wasn't interested in anyone far as I could make out--"

"'til she took up with that Jud feller, I guess," Will added thoughtfully.

"Yeah, guess so. Not sure why she went fer him myself, but--" 

_"Thanks,_ Ali," Curly griped. "You c'n _go_ now."

"Geez, who died and made you king of the bathroom?" Ali shot back, but under Curly's stinkeye did again head for the door. Ado Annie wiggled her fingers at him in goodbye and he slipped outside. Curly stood, quietly frowning at the floor, the makeup palette held loosely in his hand. There was some kind of disillusionment to his posture, something in the way his shoulders were slumped, beyond the simple confusion. 

“Hey Curly?” Will asked after a moment. “You good?”

Curly took a deep breath and slowly shook out his wrist with the palette in his hand. Rolling his neck, he picked his head up and turned back to the mirror. “...well ain’t that somethin’,” he muttered in soft and slightly forlorn awe. Staring at his reflection, he flipped open the palette again and went diligently back to work. Perhaps a bit more makeup could hide the expression on his face, whatever it was. “‘S just peachy, that is.”

“She liked you, y’know,” Annie added, giving him her full attention now. All the teasing playfulness was gone from her demeanor now, she sounded sincere. “Took her a long time t’ work up the nerve t’ ask you out, but y’ left right before she could.” Curly looked pensive. Ado Annie shifted on the counter so she faced him a little more. “She was real upset when y’ took off, didn’t wanna talk much fer a while, ‘specially to other fellers. I didn’ think she was still that mad at you fer it now, though.” After a beat, she added, "Saw a few folks meanwhile, but nothin' stuck."

Curly pursed his lips. “What about that Jud feller?”

Annie looked thoughtful. “They ain’t serious. Not as far as I c’n make out. Seems kinda, on-again-off-again t’ me.”

Curly exhaled softly and shut the makeup palette. Slipping it back into his pocket with one hand, he used the other to fluff some of his curls up a bit, before reaching for his hat on the counter and putting it back on. As he turned to go he glanced back at Will and Annie and paused, asking, “Did you come in here to actually _use_ the bathroom, or--?”   
  


“We were gonna make out,” Will answered simply, his arms already wrapped around his girlfriend. She grinned and put her hand in his hair again. 

Curly snorted. “Figures, yeah. Well. I’ll leave you to it, I guess,” he said, adjusting his hat and heading for the door.

“Hey, Curly,” Annie said. He paused and glanced over his shoulder at her. “Like yer makeup,” she complemented with a kind smile and a subtle nod.

He grinned, just a little. “Thanks, Annie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and summary by the Zac Brown Band.


	6. Sweet Annie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sweet Annie, can I stay with you a while?_   
>  _'Cause this road's been putting miles on my heart_   
>  _Sweetheart, I've been living in a fantasy_   
>  _But one day, lightning will strike_   
>  _And my bark will lose its bite, but don't give up on me_

The party wound down for the evening. In the remaining hour or two guests slowly trickled out, and Curly spent the whole time chatting and smiling and receiving the loving regards of his community members. By the end, his energy was totally spent, and he was so glad to be ushered back to the car with his parents and brothers and driven back home. But exhausted as he was, he wasn’t quite ready for bed, there was something more pressing on his mind he couldn’t let go of just yet. In scarcely two minutes after the family car pulled into the driveway, Curly had obtained the requisite permission from Momma, kissed her on the cheek, and bade his folks goodnight; then he hopped into his pickup, turned the key, and was back out on the road. It was a beautiful night to just drive with the radio up and the windows down, but Curly had a destination in mind.

The truck pulled into the drive out front of the farmhouse. The little produce stand was shuttered and empty further off in the yard. Crickets chirped, and the late-season cicadas still buzzed in the trees. Gentle winds rustled the crops in the fields that spread out from behind the yard. It was dark and cool out; a deep blue peace covered this part of the country, and the stars watched down silently from above. But there was a warm yellow glow from the front window, welcoming. 

Curly shifted the car into park and hopped out. Gravel crunched and gave way to grass then old wood as he made his way up to the front porch and the door. He lifted his hand to knock modestly but the door pulled open before his hand made contact. Aunt Eller appeared, leaning on the door frame, peering at him through the judging eyes of an adult who’s known a kid since before they were born, and holding a mug of something hot and fragrant in her hands. 

“Evenin’, ma’am,” he greeted, polite.

“You know what time it is, young man?” she returned, raising an eyebrow and sipping her drink. 

He chuckled, his sheepishness increasing, but so too was his charm. Her eyes were scolding, but just as much teasing. It had been a good long while but this was a game they’d played many times before. “Ain’t never a bad time t’ drop by an’ say hello t’ the prettiest woman this side a’ Lone Ellum,” he returned, eliciting a grin from Aunt Eller. 

“Flatterer. Come inside, you, ‘fore anythin’ else gets in,” she said, retreating into the house and welcoming him to follow. He obliged, stepping in and looking around, while she went over and took a seat at the table in what constituted a dining room. Curly smiled and breathed it in; the place was as he remembered it. Old and cozy lived-in, worn wood and pillowed seating. It smelled like pie crusts and black coffee and wood-burning stoves. It smelled like home, perhaps even more so than his own. “Enjoy yer party t’night?” Eller asked from her place at the table, looking at him amicably from over her mug.

“Yeah, was real nice. Could’a had better company, though,” he answered, running his fingers along the wood grain of a side table next to the couch. He smiled almost smugly over at her, tapping his knuckles on the table, but the friendly air was not lost.

“Mm, saw you hardly had a free moment all evenin’. Had to’ve been someone nice t’ talk to, surely.” 

“Naw...well, ‘m sure I could think of someone, if pressed.” Eller pursed her lips and grinned. “Well, not  _ you,”  _ Curly added in retort, laughing. “Nor none a’ yer kinfolks, I could help it!” Eller laughed with him; they both missed their mutual teasings. It had been too long since they’d seen each other. Coming down from it, Curly chuckled lightly and scratched his cheek. “Well. She ain’t--” he started. Eller interrupted him with a nod towards the stairs, and a funny knowing sort of gleam in her eye.

“Up in her room, kiddo,” she directed, sipping again.

Curly smiled and rubbed the back of his head. “Thanks, Aunt Eller.” She nodded nicely and watched him disappear upstairs, his feet falling on the steps with an amusing eagerness.

* * *

He walked a bit softer, more slowly as he approached the room at the end of the hall. He knocked gently on the door, once, twice, with his knuckle; from within came a tired “come in.” Gingerly he turned the knob and pushed the door open, finding Laurey sitting on her bed. While he hadn’t bothered at home to change out of his party clothes yet, she was already comfy in her tank top and lounge pants which served her as pajamas, with that pretty blue dress returned to a hanger and hooked from the top of her standing mirror next to the closet. Her face already cleaned and washed of makeup so her freckles dotted like stars, her hair pulled back into a loose bun. Her head was down, her posture hunched over, as she worked on knotting the strings wrapped around her big toe into a friendship bracelet. The little radio on her desk was turned to a country station and quietly played out the mellow kind of tunes they played at night.

“I won’ stay up all night, Aunt Eller, I promise--” she started, tying a string off and looking up finally. Glancing over at the door, it was only now that she noticed it was Curly standing there. Leaning forward, she reached over to the desk and clicked the radio off. “Oh, um. Hey. Wasn’t ‘xpectin’ you,” she said. Curly couldn’t quite read her voice, but her eyes trained on him made him feel weaker and more exhausted than he expected. 

“Hey there,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his head and stepping in. He wore a small, soft grin, but while she hadn’t exactly been smiling before, she was certainly frowning now. “Fancy meetin’ you here.”

Laurey made an irritated face. “Who said you could just waltz int’ my room like that?”

“Well,  _ you _ did, I bet,” he answered, quirking a brow and looking smug. “‘Bout ten sec’nds ago.” She opened her mouth to protest, then shut it, pursing her lips in annoyance.

“Well, wha’d’you want?” she asked, turning her attention back to the bracelet, but keeping an eye on him in her periphery as he began to amble around her room. It wasn’t hard to guess why he was here, even though she didn’t want to think about that. He wandered over to the mirror, admiring her dress, and rubbed a bit of the skirt between his fingers. “Haven’t you bugged me enough fer one night?”

“I don’ reckon I’ve bugged y’ quite enough, actually,” he replied, tilting his head back at her with a dopey grin. She scoffed and looked down. Turning back to the dress, he continued, saying “‘s a real nice dress, I didn’ get t’ say earlier. Looks purty on you.” He sounded less teasing, more sincere now, but glancing back at her again, she kept her head down and her expression neutral. He cleared his throat slightly and tried again. “Did'ju like the party?” he asked, leaving the dress and ambling now over to her desk, hands in his pockets. She watched him from below her brows. Ugh, did he always have to  _ swagger _ with his hips like that?

“It was alright. Been to worse,” she answered, somewhat noncommittally. Curly pulled out the chair from her desk and sat down, angled towards the bed, long stork legs spread as guys so often do. Idly he rifled his fingers through some of the things on her desk -- the bottles of nail polish, the mason jar of flowers, the flashcards from Spanish and Bio -- and inspected the things hung up on the walls -- a calendar, a photo of her parents, her old dog, her and Ado Annie as gap-toothed eleven-year-olds. After a silent moment, Curly glanced back at her, and realized she wasn’t intending on elaborating.

“Went with that Jud feller, huh?” 

“Mm.”

His fingers found one of the nail polish bottles and tilted it, fidgeting. “What made y’ wanna do that?”

“Didn’ already have someone t’ go with,” she said, simply, definitively. “And...he asked me.” She glanced up, and met his eye. “So I said yes.”

Curly pouted slightly in that puppy dog way of his. “I asked you, too.” 

“You asked me t’  _ go _ . Didn’t ask if I’d go  _ with _ you.”

“I don’ reck’n that’s so.”

“Check yer damn phone, then, the texts’re still there.”

“Okay, Miss Laurey Smarty, then it was  _ implied _ . _ ” _

“Imply it better next time.”

Curly took his hand off the nail polish bottle and it clattered back upright. He let his fingers fall and tap on the desk with a sigh and a thoughtful frown. He watched her, how she focused on the strings tied round her toe, and knotted them just right to create a diamond pattern. She was good at it. She had lots of practice.

“Why didn’chu wanna go with me, Laurey?” he asked, a little quiet, his teasing gone. She paused slightly but didn’t look up. How could she tell him how she felt? How could she tell him about last summer, the last time he spent the night and she wished he’d’ve stayed in bed just a little longer? That she couldn’t stand to see his face on posters or hear his voice on the radio for months after he got discovered because of how her heart would flame and ache? That she couldn’t spend a whole night watching him be praised and worshipped, hearing endlessly about how wonderful it must’ve been to travel the country, to get out, to be free? Hear how proud everyone was, hear how much they all loved him?

Her eyes flickered back up and met his. “If I wanna go to a party  _ with _ someone, I wanna be able to actually  _ spend time _ with ‘em there, Curly. Did you even get  _ five minutes _ t’night ‘lone when you didn’ have folks houndin’ you ‘bout the past year?” He opened his mouth to protest, but thought about it, and closed it again. “Yeah...well. I figured as much.” She breathed in, out. “I didn’ wanna go with you if’n I was just gonna get ignored all night. Figured it was better t’ go alone and just hang out with Ado Annie ‘r somethin’.”

“You went with Jud, though, ain’t’chu?”   


Laurey shifted. “I did.”

“Didn’ see you an’ him together too much t’night either.”

He had a point, but how was she supposed to concede it? She couldn’t tell him about Jud, no. She couldn’t say how uneasy she felt about him either. “How would you know? Were you watchin’ us?” 

Now it was Curly’s turn to shift in his seat. His eyes darted around, landing somewhere on the carpet, and his fidgeting hands now found the collar of his blue dress shirt. He fiddled with the topmost buttons. “Not...exactly. No.”

“Hm. Great.”   


He pouted again and looked back at her. “‘S all  _ you _ know about it,” he grumbled.

An uneasy silence fell over them, as neither of them knew what to say. How to bridge the divide that had grown between them. Curly looked back at the pictures on the wall; above the flower jar was a photograph from freshman year, their whole bunch of friends smiling at the end of August, Will and Annie and Laurey and Curly all together. He reached out and brushed it gently with his fingers; Laurey watched, careful, cautious. It felt like ages ago, that picture. What happened in three years? What happened in one?

“Who gotcha these?” he asked, indicating the flowers, brushing their petals with his fingertips. White anemones and sweet lavender.

“Got ‘em myself, thank y’ kindly.” She didn’t seem particularly keen on entertaining his attempts at small talk. Especially not like this. Who was  _ he _ to be jealous, anyway?

Lapsing again into silence, Laurey sighed and looked down, returning her focus to her bracelet. This was hard. And it was hard to place quite why. She couldn’t say she still liked him, not really, but she couldn’t quite say she hated him either. She  _ had  _ missed him this year, that was at least one thing certain. She missed her friend. Who cares about anything else? She missed her friend.

“...Well, if you weren’t plannin’ on  _ leavin’ _ anytime soon,” she began after a good long pause. He looked up at her curiously -- he’d been studying the carpet once again. “Think you might still have some clothes left in the guest room.” She picked her head up again and looked at him, in time to see the tired, grateful little smile slowly creep back onto his face. “Unless you wanna wear  _ denim _ t’  _ bed.” _

“‘S just fine by me, Miss Williams,” Curly chirped and stood. He grabbed her laptop from the desk and detached the charger cord as he made his way over to the bed. “Scooch.”

“Uh-uh, boots off, ‘m not lettin’ you get  _ mud _ in my bed,” she whined, but dutifully shifted over to make room for him. She unlooped the half-tied bracelet from her toe and set it away on the desk, and let down her hair from its bun. He set the laptop down and sat on the edge, bending down to pull off his boots and set them next to the dresser. “Not like they’s really all that dirty, since you ain’t doin’ any  _ real _ work no more.”

“Do plenty a’ work!” he protested playfully, swinging his long legs up onto the bed and grabbing the laptop. “‘S just different now, ‘s all!”

Laurey scoffed. “Sure, yeah. Are you wearin'  _ makeup?" _ she asked as he made himself comfy and close at her side, now near enough to see it on his face.

"Shore am, y'like it?" he answered, grinning smugly. She scoffed.

"Well you ain't as ugly as before, so I'll take it," was her reply, though she thought to herself how he was gonna feel like shit in the morning if he didn't wash that off before bed tonight. Curly merely laughed and leaned over her, setting the computer on their laps. "What’d’you wanna watch?” she asked, opening the laptop, tapping in the password, and loading Netflix. “Heard Black Mirror’s s’pposed t’ be pretty good.”

“Nah,” Curly said. He rolled his shirt sleeves up to the elbows and crossed his arm over hers to use the touchpad. Their knees touched. She was warm, he felt it through her lounge pants and his jeans. She smelled of grapefruit lotion and coconut oil. Her hand was soft on his. “Let’s watch somethin’ dumb like The Office ‘r Parks an’ Rec.”

Laurey made a small noise of protest. “They’s old. We always watch them.”

“Well I don’ wanna watch somethin’ we gotta pay  _ too _ close attention to,” he countered. “‘Cause then I cain’t tell you ‘bout my year.” Laurey frowned and continued scrolling. Ah, because  _ that _ was what she wanted to hear. All about the cities he’d seen, the parties he’d gone to, the girls he’d met, the crowds that screamed his name in adoration. “An’ you c’n tell me ‘bout yers.” She turned her head and glanced at him sideways, finding he did the same to her. They made eye contact for just a moment, both thinking. Then, just as quickly, Laurey turned back to the computer screen.

“How ‘bout The Good Place?”

“Mm. I could do that. Start ‘er up.”

* * *

In the end they didn’t talk that much. Curly tried, but they kept getting sidetracked, either going on conversational tangents or getting distracted by the tv show. It didn’t matter, though. The way he figured, they’d have plenty of time to catch up at some point. And for Laurey, she was just glad to ignore it all for now, pretend like the past year hadn’t happened. She was content to have her old friend back again, if just for the night.

The exhaustion took over after only so long. They began to yawn, eyes drooped, heads drifted closer to shoulders and pillows. Laurey dozed off after only a few episodes, wisps of hair clinging to her face pressed against his shoulder, and her finger still resting on his chest where she’d been tracing the red flowers embroidered on his shirt. Curly had one arm around her and another keeping the laptop steady on their knees, but when he noticed her soft breathing grow regular with sleep, he paused the episode they’d reached and shut the computer. Trying not to move too much so as not to disturb her, he took the laptop and set it on her dresser, then hit the switch to kill the lights. Laying his head back on the pillow, Curly stared at the ceiling in silent thought until, before long, sleep came over him as well.

It wasn’t much, and it didn’t really answer their questions. But for now, it was nice, and it was good, and it was enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and summary by the Zac Brown Band.
> 
> Special thanks to Meg for helping me write bits of this one.


	7. Famous in a Small Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Every last one, route one, rural heart's got a story to tell_   
>  _Every grandma, in-law, ex-girlfriend_   
>  _Maybe knows you just a little too well_   
>  _Whether you're late for church or you're stuck in jail_   
>  _Hey, word's gonna get around_   
>  _Everybody dies famous in a small town_

“Laurey, honey lamb, what’d’ya think? Does it look good on me?” Curly asked, something annoyingly playful in his voice.

With a heavily irritated sigh, Laurey glanced and glared over her shoulder at him, holding a summer sundress up to his chest and twirling a little with a stupid grin. “Put that away an’ _get out of my closet,”_ she snapped at him, turning back to her desk. “An’ _don’t_ call me that.”

“What, you mean ‘honey lamb?’” he purred, always teasing. 

“Yeah, _‘honey lamb.’”_ She sounded distinctly less amused and distinctly more disgusted than him.

“I think it’s cute!” Curly protested, hanging the dress back up and filing through some of the rest of what was hung up.

“Well _I_ don’t,” she said, glancing once more over at him. “I _thought_ I told you t’ _get out of my closet already.”_

“Jeez, alright, little Miss Grumpy!” he said, retreating and holding up his hands. She glared at him until he shut the door, then turned once again back to her laptop. “Was just _lookin’.”_

“Quit yer lookin’, then. I cain’t be dealin’ with yer stupid antics right now,” she sighed and rubbed her face. “What’d you come ‘round here for today anyway? Just to get on my nerves? I’m _busy,_ you little wart.”

Curly made a noise of pretend hurt and put a hand over his chest, but when he realized Laurey was paying absolutely no attention to him anymore, he decided to fix that. He walked over to her at the desk and leaned over her shoulder to peer at her computer screen. “What’re you workin’ on? Why’re you so _busy_ y’ cain’t spend an afternoon with yer ol’ pal Curly?” 

Scoffing as he suddenly appeared over her shoulder, she grabbed the screen of her laptop and tilted it down to obscure it. “Did yer momma never teach you ‘bout somethin’ called _personal space?”_ she spat, shoving him away a little. He stood upright and chuckled, coming back. “‘M writin’ my college essay. Leave me alone, will ya.” 

“College essay?” Curly repeated, his teasing demeanor fading.

“Mm,” Laurey said, pushing the laptop back open a bit more. She typed a few words, paused, then deleted them.

“Didn’ know you was applyin’.”

“It’s our senior fall, Curly. ‘Course I’m applyin’.”

“Well -- I didn’ know that. Not everybody does. I’m not.”

Laurey paused, glancing at him sideways. “Yer not?” He shook his head no, hands in his pockets. She frowned, disapprovingly, and went back to the computer. “Well, guess that’s just fine, fer _you_. Got yer...record label, an’ yer tours an’ whatnot.”

“Where’re you lookin’?” Curly asked, leaning closer again. 

She frowned and tapped the keyboard lightly, just drumming her fingers on the keys, not hard enough to actually write. “Y’know. Oklahoma State. University of Oklahoma...um, I dunno. Maybe Langston.”

“What about Rogers State? ‘S right close by.”

“I’m gonna end up livin’ outside Claremore ‘til I die, Curly, I c’n at _least_ _try_ t’ go t’ college in another town, jesus.”

“Naw, c’mon, don’ say that,” he chuckled. She didn’t look comforted. “Well, how ‘bout lookin’ somewheres else? Branch out. They’s schools all over the country, California, New York. Y’ don’ gotta stay stuck in Oklahoma.”

“Yeah, Curly, I kinda do,” she sighed again, putting her face in her hands. She looked tired. “Ain’t never gonna afford tuition less’n it’s in-state. Even then I’ll probably need scholarships.”

“Oh.” Curly sat down on the edge of her bed. 

“Yeah. So, um. Gotta get this essay done. ‘S gotta be good, y’know.” Laurey stared at her laptop screen, the little typing cursor blinking at her from the doc. She drummed the fingers of one hand on the desk, and propped her head up with the other hand, a distant frown on her face. 

“Yer a real smart cookie. ‘M sure you’ll get lots’a scholarships,” he offered. “Talented. Real pretty like that.”

“Yeah. Sure. That’ll get me a lot.”

Curly frowned. The room fell into thoughtful silence, save for Laurey’s sporadic tapping on the keyboard. Curly lightly swung his legs dangling over the edge of the bed and stared at his lap, holding his hands clasped together there. He fiddled with his thumbs. Perhaps for once trying to respectful and let her work in peace for once, or else trying to think of some new way to be a bother. After several minutes, Laurey put her face in her hands again and groaned, exasperated and irritated. 

“You ‘lright, Laurey?” Curly asked, trying to be caring.

“I’ve been working for like five hours, Curly, no I’m not alright.”

“Well then it sounds like you need a break,” he said, childlike energy returning to his tone. He swung his legs a bit more now and the bed rocked with him.

“Cain’t _break,_ gotta keep workin’,” she grumbled. But on the edge of her desk, her phone vibrated a notification; leaning back in the chair, she picked it up and unlocked it, reading the message.

“Who texted?” Curly asked. It was a distraction, anyway, even if it wasn’t his.

“Ado Annie,” she said neutrally. He watched her eyes move slightly as she read whatever was on the screen, and then her fingers were tapping out a reply.

“What’d she say?”

“Mm, just textin’ ‘bout some old stuff from grade school she found back in her shelves.”

“Yeah? What’d she find?” Curly brought up one leg, crossed it under the other, and sat on it, sitting forward with interest.

“Remember when we was really little and they’d give us those dumb worksheets t’ fill out? Askin’ like, what yer fav’rite color is, what yer fav’rite food is, what y’ wanna be when y’ grow up? That kinda stuff.”

“No shit, her paw kep’ it?”

“Whose don’t?” 

“Don’ think mine did,” Curly laughed.

“Well when y’ got three boys in the house who cares ‘bout keepin’ every scrap from kindergarten, anyway?” Laurey replied, texting something else to Ado Annie. At least she didn’t sound so frustrated anymore.

“Well, _you_ ain’ got no big brothers t’ worry ‘bout. You think yer folks kep’ ‘em?”

  
  
“I dunno. Maybe.” 

Curly hopped off the bed, energy renewed. “Well, let’s go look an’ see!”

Laurey set the phone down on the desk and turned to look at him, furrowing her brow. “What? No, c’mon Curly. Gotta work.”

“You been workin’ all day, Laurey! C’mon, you could use a break. ‘S only October, you got time.”

“Early action deadlines--” Laurey began to protest.

“--ain’t ‘til November! C’mon!” Curly interrupted, cheerfully taking her wrist and gently tugging her arm to get her out of the chair. Relenting, with a dramatic sigh and an eyeroll, she allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. She rolled her neck and stretched slightly -- she _had_ been sitting for too long, perhaps -- then shut the laptop and slipped her phone into her pocket to go. Curly grinned. “Attagirl!”

“Enough,” she hushed, shaking her head. He admired how her hair bounced when she did that. It made teasing her that much more fun. She strode out her room, through the hallway, and down the stairs, with Curly trailing behind like a loyal hound. Reaching the landing, she rounded the bannister and headed for the office, figuring if old pages from grade school were stored anywhere it’d be in Eller’s file folders. From the kitchen she heard the running faucet turn off.

“Afternoon, Laurey,” Jud greeted, looking up from the kitchen sink. He shook water from his hands and reached for the towel.

“Afternoon,” she returned, giving him a nod, then continued on. Curly came down the stairs and, noticing him, looked puzzled. Jud caught his eye for a second, his usual neutral frown shifting just slightly. 

“Howdy, Jud,” Curly offered. The other boy merely nodded in acknowledgement and hung the towel back in its place, then turned and left out the back door into the yard. Curly pursed his lips. “Didn’ know you had, uh, company over,” he said, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans and following Laurey into the next room again.

“Don’ mind him. I’d say he’s ‘round ‘bout as much as you are nowadays,” she said, kneeling on the ground by the desk in the office and pulling out a box of file folders. She began to shuffle through them, keeping her head down, and so didn’t notice the odd look on Curly’s face.

“He is?” he asked, sounding a little dumb.

“Yeah. Eller hired him last summer part-time as a farmhand.”

“Oh.” He exhaled and puffed out his cheeks. It was good she wasn’t looking, he figured, his face felt hot. He hadn’t a good reason for it; it’d been a little over a month since his welcome home party, and he hadn’t seen her much with Jud at all since. He’d be a liar if he said that wasn’t a comfort to him. While he’d been modestly working at rebuilding his formerly-quite-close friendship with Laurey since coming home, he’d also be a liar if he said he didn’t want something more than that, at least from time to time. He had no reason to be jealous, not of anyone, and yet. Pushing that thought aside, he came over and sat down on Eller’s rolling desk chair and made himself comfy. He reached down and grabbed a few folders, flipping through them in his lap, made roomy by him spreading his stork legs like usual. “Find anythin’ good yet?”

She looked up and made a face, quickly swiping the folders from him. “Who said _you_ could look through Aunt Eller’s stuff?”

He chuckled and made emphatic movements with his hands. “C’mon, we was in grade school together, ain’t nothin’ embarrassin’ ‘bout you in there t’ me!” 

She scowled at him before going back to the folders. “It ain’t all stuff ‘bout me, dummy. ‘M still tryin’ t’ find it.”

“What’re you lookin’ for anyway?”

“I dunno. Somethin’ interestin’, I guess.”

“What’d Ado Annie find?” he asked, scratching his chin and turning his head to one side. 

“I already _told_ ya, one a’ them ol’ worksheets--”

“Oh yeah,” he laughed, leaning back and grinning up at the ceiling. “I remember doin’ those. I always wrote ‘rockstar’ or somethin’ like that on mine.”

“Mm, a’ course you did,” she muttered, pulling out a file and flipping through it. 

“What’d Annie put on hers?”

“‘Astronaut.’” Laurey answered. Curly snorted. “Or ‘ballerina.’” He laughed outright. She glanced up, couldn’t help but chuckle. “Or _‘cardiologist.’”_ She added, now giggling along with him. She had always had big ideas, their Ado Annie.

“No shit, huh?” Curly asked, coming back down. “What kinda first grader knows what a _cardiologist_ is?”

“Yeah, no shit,” Laurey chuckled. “Guess Annie did. Good for her, right? I heard she’s applyin’ t’ some real competitive schools now too, gonna study bio or somethin’ like that.”

“Wow, no kiddin’,” Curly exhaled, smiling vaguely upwards again. “Guess we always knew she was gonna be somethin’ special, huh? If’n she was writin’ big dream careers down like _astronaut_ ‘r _cardiologist_ an’ whatnot.”

“Nah, lotsa kids put down dumb things like that when they’s that little,” she refuted, then paused. “Okay, well maybe not _cardiologist,_ specific’ly, but y’know.” Finally finding a folder with a label from elementary school, she pulled it out and methodically began to scan through its contents. “They was other ways t’ tell Annie was goin’ places.” 

“‘M sure you wrote somethin’ big and fancy like that too,” Curly offered, now leaning on the arm of the chair and holding his head in his hand, gazing down lazily at her. 

“Mm. Probably...don’ really remember,” she answered, trailing off slightly as she stopped shuffling through the pages and stared at one of them in particular. He watched her eyes move again, methodically and subtly, as she read the words on the page, he couldn’t read it from his spot for himself. She frowned a little, small and neat.

“What’s’at?” he asked after a moment. “Somethin’ interestin’?”

She blinked, seeming to pull herself back to reality, and kept shuffling. “...nah. Just an’ old math test.”

“Oh shit, like them ol’ times tables?” he asked, laughing again. “I _sucked_ at those, they was the _worst!”_

“Bet you did,” Laurey muttered by way of response, still frowning over something. Then, a thought striking her, she looked up. “What time is it?”

Curly produced his phone from his pocket. “‘Bout five. Why?”

Laurey sighed and straightened the papers in the folder. Laying it overtop the file box to return to later, she stood and rolled her neck. “Better get started on supper,” she explained, heading for the door. Curly stood to follow.

“I’ll give y’ a hand,” he offered; she laughed once.

“Sure y’ will. An’ I’m gettin’ a full ride t’ Harvard.” Curly puffed out his cheeks at that. He was always more of an obstacle than a help in the kitchen and they both knew it. “Bet yer momma’ll ‘xpect you home soon anyhow, huh?”

“Well I could always text--” he started, interrupted at that same moment by a buzz from his phone. Looking at it again, he sighed. “Speak of the devil. Guess you were right this time, Miss Laurey.” She didn’t look back at him, but she did smirk in the smug self-satisfaction of being right. Once again he trailed her into the kitchen; she went to the fridge and pulled out a tupperware of shredded chicken and a stick of butter to set on the counter.

The back door opened once again and Jud came back in, carrying a basket. He wiped his forehead with his free hand before looking up and noticing Laurey and, more pointedly, Curly in the kitchen again. He glanced at the other boy for a beat before coming over to the counter and setting the basket down. “Few extra eggs this afternoon,” he said. Laurey glanced over.

“Just put ‘em in the fridge,” she instructed. “Are you stayin’ for supper tonight?”

He took the basket again and went to the fridge as instructed to put the eggs away. Curly watched, standing and leaning by the wall, wearing a small and quiet frown on his face. “What're you makin’?” Jud asked, closing the fridge again.

“Pot pie,” she answered. Turning and looking over her shoulder, she added to Curly, “grab me the flour from the pantry, will you? And my apron.” She turned back to the counter, pulling out a couple bowls and a cutting board from the cupboards. 

“Guess so,” came Jud’s response. Curly was still for a moment, glanced from Laurey to Jud, then moved to the pantry to do as asked. 

“Aw, Laurey, you _know_ I love yer pies,” Curly whined, bringing the bag of flour over and setting it next to her bowl and handing her the apron. Taking it from him, she tied it on and rolled up her sleeves to get to work.

“Well, you wanna deal with skippin’ supper at home, you c’n stay an’ have as much as y’d like. But I’ll let _you_ decide if’n that’s worth the earful you’ll get from yer momma for it,” she answered, nudging him out of the way and grabbing a knife. “Now scoot. Got work t’ do.”

Curly held his hands up slightly and relented, backing up. “Jeez, alright, I getcha.” He retreated, backing back up to the wall, and checked his phone again. “I prob’ly oughta get goin’ anyhow...like y’ said. Momma wants me back,” he said with a soft chuckle, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “‘Ll see you ‘round, Laurey,” he finished, flourishing a bow before heading to the door. She glanced behind just in time to see him acting goofy as usual and start to go. Jud watched quietly from near the back door, still, then took the basket and disappeared back outside once more. 

“Yeah, later,” she replied, turning back to the cooking. In the bowl she measured out and mixed together flour and salt, then cut in cubes of butter, and finally stirred it all together with water to form a pastry. Wrapped in plastic, she transferred it to the fridge to chill while she got the veggies chopped and the sauce simmering. Once everything was prepped she took the pastry back out and rolled it out, and soon enough dinner was cooking away in the oven. She cleared away the counter once she was done and washed the flour from her hands, then untied and removed her apron to put away.

Done with her responsibilities for now, Laurey sighed and stretched her arms. She yawned. Sure, she could, probably _should_ go back to her essay -- but she was in no mood for it now, tired and worn out from so much work on it already, and spoiled to leisure now since Curly’s distractions. Eller had still not returned from her errands in town, and Jud was busy still in the yard, or else simply reposing outside while dinner cooked; now alone, and having some real peace and quiet again, she returned to the office. Picking up the folder she’d left on top of the filing box, she opened it again and flipped through the pages until she found the page she’d been looking at before. The handwriting was in that crude, large-lettered style of young kids, and left something to be desired in terms of neatness and presentation, but could still be read plainly enough:

_Name:_ _Laurey Williams_

 _Grade:_ _5th_

 _What is your favorite color?_ _My favorite color is yellow because sunflowers are yellow and my aunt Eller grows them in her garden._

 _What is your favorite subject in school?_ _I like English class when I can pick a book from the library to read._

 _What do you want to be when you grow up?_ _When I grow up I am going to be a farmer because I live on a farm and my family is all farmers too._

There were further questions on the page, but Laurey lost interest by then. She stared at those responses for a few moments, thinking quietly, before closing the file and replacing it in the box with a sigh.

No grand dreams like Annie’s or Curly’s. Not even an ‘I want’; merely an ‘I will.’ _When I grow up I am going to be a farmer because I live on a farm and my family is all farmers too._

Laurey left the room and went to the sink. Running cool water from the faucet, she splashed some over her face and let it drip. She leaned on the counter and gazed out the window, frowning. The sun would set soon, and a yellow golden-hour glow filled the air and everything around the yard. This view that had been a part of her whole life. And would likely remain that way until she died. 

_God damn,_ she thought, frowning and furrowing her brow in frustration. _I was fucking ten._ And yet even that early, she’d known, somehow, this might be all she would ever know, all she would ever be. It’s a great big world out there, and she would see so precious little of it.

Laurey grunted in disgust and shut the water off. She dried her hands and face on the towel, then turned and left, trudging back up the stairs and retreating once again to her room. She sat at her desk, pulled open the laptop, and got to typing once again. She would finish this essay if it killed her, and by god, she was going to make it a good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and synopsis by Miranda Lambert.
> 
> These chapters just keep getting longer I'm so sorry I can't make it stop please help me oh no


	8. American Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There's a wild, wild whisper blowin' in the wind_   
>  _Callin' out my name like a long lost friend_   
>  _Oh, I miss those days as the years go by_   
>  _Oh, nothin' sweeter than summertime_   
>  _And American honey_

It was that time of year when the days drew short and the sunset crept closer and closer, imposingly earlier day by day. By this time most years it was cooler out, but no one was going to complain about the current warm spell lingering on into November as it was. Soon it would be gone and they would miss it, they knew to appreciate it while it lasted. 

Jud sat out on the back porch. In his hands he turned over an apple, round and smooth and patchy red, fresh from the tree by the converted shed he slept in most nights at this point. You didn’t even have to wash them before you ate, you just had to twist-tug-pull it off the branch and take a bite, they were so clean and ripe. But there weren’t that many left this late in the season, only a few still on the trees to enjoy. He waited another few seconds in silence before lifting it to his lips and taking a bite. It was firm and sweet, like all the best things.

The door creaked open behind him. He glanced back slightly over his shoulder to see Laurey come out. Her flannel was long-sleeved, but in the unseasonable heat, she still kept her sleeves rolled up halfway, a few of the buttons left undone. A collarbone is such a plain thing, but so remarkable, even and especially in its remarkability. 

“Hey,” she greeted softly, as if a louder voice would somehow disturb the earth itself. She closed the door behind, gently, taking care to not let it slam. 

“Hey,” he greeted back after swallowing his bite of apple.

“Mind if I sit?” she asked. He shook his head, and she came forward, setting down on the top porch step beside him, a few inches between them. She leaned forward, crossed her arms on her knees, and stared out at the yard. The sun was creeping steadily closer to the horizon to the west, and the whole world was washed in golden light. A light breeze came through, and she breathed it in. Jud tried not to stare, took another bite of his apple, and chewed it deliberately. “Penny for yer thoughts,” Laurey broke the silence after a long, quiet pause.

He turned the apple in his hand and looked at it, wearing his usual neutral frown. “Good apples this year,” he said, finding a loss for other words, at least other words to say out loud. She looked over at him, the fruit in his hand, like she hadn’t really considered it before. He noticed, and held it slightly out to her. “Want a bite?”

“Yeah. Sure,” she said, shifting and taking it from him. He watched her turn it in her fingers and lift it, biting into the untouched side. A little juice ran on her chin, and she wiped it with her thumb as she lowered the apple with her other hand. She licked her lips and finger, and said a muffled “thanks” through a full mouth as she handed it back to him. He grunted, not unkindly, back, and took another bite himself. “Mm, sweet… I think I saw pomegranates at the store last weekend. They’s still in season now, I could ask Aunt Eller to pick one up this week. Do you like pomegranates?” she said, conversational. Mouth full, Jud grunted his response, and shook his head.

“I’ve never tried one.”

“They’re good. I’ll put it on the shopping list.”

Jud took another bite and wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb, then held the apple back to Laurey.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. ‘S yers,” she shook her head. 

“Go ahead,” he said. She met his eye for a second.

“Alright,” Laurey conceded, taking it again and having another bite.

Jud brought his hands together in his lap and looked down. “I’m surprised, uh. Surprised Curly ain’t come ‘round yet t’day,” he started, oddly cautious.

Laurey grunted and examined the apple. “He’s out of town fer a few days,” she said, muffled through chewing. “Recording or some’at like that.” Something stuck in her tone but he couldn't pick up what it was.

“Oh,” said Jud. She took one more bite and handed the apple back. He took it back and held it, cradled in his palms. Apples fit so well in your hand, don’t they? he thought, he made himself think. “You ain’t, uh, hung out with Ado Annie neither,” he said, halfway between a simple observation and a question.

“Nah,” Laurey answered, somewhat distant. She leaned again on her knees and looked out over the yard. The sky grew orange and dark. “She’s away too. Visitin’ schools.”

“Oh,” said Jud again. He took another bite of the apple; there wasn’t too much left now. He wondered if he’d taste her chapstick on it at all.

Laurey exhaled. “Are you applyin’ anywhere, Jud?” she asked, something dreamlike in her tone. He was still for a beat, save for chewing, and swallowing.

“No,” he answered simply. Laurey glanced at him. After another beat, he shifted and kept going. “I like it here, I guess...uh, I got a bed an’ a job...Aunt Eller’s nice ‘nough.” Compared to everyone else, at least. “‘S, uh, ‘s a bit expensive,” he went on, muttering a bit. He didn’t make  _ that _ much, and certainly his grades would get him no scholarship help, but Eller let him room in the shed as long as he was working, and was more than welcoming when it came to meals; as far as Jud was concerned, that was good enough pay for anybody. And he even preferred an old converted shed to his real home, he didn’t get along much there and hadn’t anywhere for about as long as he could remember. Soon enough he’d be eighteen and it wouldn’t matter anyhow. He still didn’t fit in so well with anybody else in town. But the work, room, and board was enough for him. “I don’ know what I’d do anyhow.”

“I dunno,” Laurey shrugged. “Could study agribusiness. Then y’ could make more’n y’ do now. Maybe manage a farm yerself,” she offered, almost as much to herself as to Jud.

“Mmn. I don’...I think I’ll just keep workin’, fer a while.”

“Mm,” Laurey grunted, considering this. She wiped her hand on her jeans. Jud went back to finishing the apple, bite by bite, trimming it to the core. When it was done, he breathed deeply and stood, heading down the steps to the yard to toss the core in the compost heap. As he came back, the little window to the kitchen looking out back shimmied open, and they heard radio static quietly spring to life and then fade into a country song. Jud looked up, and Laurey looked back over her shoulder. 

“Aunt Eller must be home,” Jud observed; Laurey’s aunt often liked to listen to the radio while she worked in the kitchen, and it was so warm out it would have been nice to have a breeze come in. Laurey tilted her head and had a dreamy expression. 

“I love this song,” she said, a distant smile beginning to form on her face.

Jud held out a hand to her. She looked at it, briefly perplexed, then met his eye. “Care t’ dance?” he asked. Neither of them knew what came over him to ask. 

Neither knew what came over her, either, when she said a simple “okay,” and took his hand, letting him help pull her to her feet. On the grass they arranged themselves. His hand fit so comfortably on the small of her back. He breathed, but kept it quiet, so they could still hear the music, it was not too loud and the crickets were beginning to sing along. The song was slower, with ringing mandolin and guitar, and a sweet melody sung overtop. Laurey led at first, swaying to the beat, the two of them stepping around together gently as the sun set.

“I didn’ know you liked t’ dance,” Laurey said as they turned.

“I asked you back in September,” he answered. “To the party.”

“Oh yeah,” she said, tilting her head again. She had her eyes trained on something, he couldn’t tell what, perhaps his collar poking out above his jacket. Perhaps the slightly ratty undershirt he had on underneath, he hadn’t buttoned the flannel, and was suddenly self conscious about it. Or perhaps she was merely looking into space and thinking. “We danced that night.”

“With everybody,” he said, frowning slightly. 

“Yeah,” she smiled at the memory, not looking up. “That was nice.”

“Didn’ get t’ dance much with you that night, though,” Jud pointed out.

“Didn’ know you wanted to,” Laurey said, her smile fading to a more careful expression, hard to read quite exactly. She finally looked up and met his eye, and he felt a little less comfortable in his skin suddenly. “You could’a come t’ that Halloween party a few weeks ago. Lots’a dancin’ there.”

He pursed his lips. “Naw, I don’...I don’ really do Halloween,” he said, eyes darting to the ground. It was hard to really say what he meant. Why was it always even harder around her?

“I don’ either, usually. But you ain’t gotta dress up much,” she argued. “I just threw on a hat an’ a cape, basically.”

“Don’ wanna just dance with other folks,” he said, looking back up, making eye contact. Laurey frowned, small and neat, hesitating or slowing a little with her steps, waiting for some kind of elaboration.

“‘M dancin’ with you now, ain’t I?” she pointed out. She picked the beat back up, and the pair circled around. 

“You didn’ then,” he said. There was a beat. 

“There was Homecomin’ last year,” she added, tilting her head again. 

“Didn’ dance much then either.”

“We only just met. But we did a little. Why don’ we just dance now ‘stead a’ worryin’?”

“Did you wanna go with Curly instead?” Jud asked, somewhat abruptly. Laurey blinked, not sure how to respond.

“When? In September?” Laurey asked. Jud nodded. “No,” she finally said, after a beat. “No. Not really.”

“Not really?”

“Not really.” She wasn’t lying, at least. Jud didn’t seem comforted. Laurey pursed her lips and exhaled through her nose. “We’s just friends an’ he was gonna be busy  _ all _ night--” she started to explain.

“‘S fine,” he interrupted, and he looked down again. “Ferget it.” She studied his face quietly for a moment. The music faded out and another song started up, but they had stopped moving a little while ago anyway. 

“Jud?” she prompted, something questioning in her tone.

His lips flattened. “Sorry. Sorry. I--” he started, looking up again, catching her eyes. The last of the day’s sunlight was caught in them. “C’n I just...”

They were still and silent for a beat, but it was Laurey who moved first, closing the gap between them. A palm on his jaw. Eyelids sinking shut. Soft lips on his, but somehow still firm. It was a chaste kiss, but it lasted, perhaps longer than either of them expected. She was warm, and she tasted sweet, like crisp fall apple and honey. He didn’t want her to stop. 

But she did, after a moment, who could say how long for certain. Leaning back down and pulling away, opening her eyes, breathing again. He lingered in the moment longer, just slightly, but drifted down eventually, letting his eyes open once again and meet hers. Neither of them spoke, not yet. Neither knew what to say. Neither was even quite sure they knew what had just happened, anyway. And Jud didn’t want to acknowledge how his hard heart must’ve been beating, how red his face must’ve gone; at least the twilight helped disguise the latter.

“Well,” Laurey finally broke the silence. She bit her lip slightly. It was sort of cute, but, then again, so was everything about her, Jud thought. “I should probably go inside an’ help Eller with supper.” She backed up, and he suddenly felt far colder, his hands far emptier, less complete. “Let y’ know when it’s ready.” She held his eye for another moment longer before turning and going back up the couple steps to the porch, then pulling open the door, then disappearing back inside. 

* * *

  
  


As Laurey shut the door behind her, Aunt Eller looked up from the stove where she was cooking at the sound. “Hi Aunt Eller,” she greeted. 

“Hi Laurey baby,” her aunt returned. 

“Can I help with supper at all?” Laurey asked, coming up beside her aunt and. 

“I got it, just set th’ table,” Eller instructed. Laurey began to reach into the cupboards for plates. “Guess I should hold off on makin’ an apple crumble fer dessert tonight, huh?”

Laurey paused. “Why?” she asked, already feeling her cheeks heat up.

“Saw you snackin’ before dinner, ‘at’s all,” Eller shrugged simply. Laurey pursed her lips into a neat frown and reminded herself she had done nothing wrong as she pulled silverware from the drawer and retreated to the dining room. Eller smiled slightly to herself, smug. “Hope you ain’t ruined yer appetite.” 

* * *

Outside, Jud blinked. He was frozen still at first, watching her go back inside, then he broke from his trance to breathe deeply and rub his face with his hand. He tried to process what had happened, and didn’t get very far. Shaking his head, he turned and began to walk up through the yard out to the shed he practically called home now, with the tree round the side, and the taste of honey-sweet cider still in his mouth. Whatever it was, it sure had been nice, he thought as the last of the day’s light dipped below the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and summary by Lady Antebellum.
> 
> i dont have any good excuse for this one ty for reading


	9. Roses Are Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The ache inside the hate_   
>  _I found a way to sit and wait_   
>  _And now I can't, your voice, your face_   
>  _Without a trace, l'lI wait for you_   
>  _Roses are fallin' for you, you_

“...an’ a packet t’ fill out on chapter 8 fer AP bio,” Laurey finished as she unloaded papers and textbooks onto her friend’s desk. “Mr. Grover said t’ just get it done when y’ can, he ain’t real worried ‘bout you missin’ class.”

Ado Annie grinned proudly and tossed her hair. “Yeah, he ain’t. I got th’ best grades in that class anyhow.” Sitting cross-legged on her bed, she pulled the clothes from her suitcase one by one and either folded them neatly in a pile to her side or dropped them unceremoniously into the laundry basket on the floor.

“I think that’s everythin’?” Laurey said, making a face of thought.

“Bio, chem, calc, lit, gov,” Annie counted aloud, pausing from the brightly colored sweater she was working on arranging. “Think that’s everythin’.”

“Jesus, why do you take so many damn APs?” Laurey huffed, teasingly exasperated. 

“What, like it’s hard?” Annie shot back with a grin. Laurey rolled her eyes, but smirked.

“Showoff. Oh, an’ Miss Park said t’ check yer email for more info on th’ test next week. Did I miss anythin’ from yer locker?”

Annie shook her head. “Nope, think y’ got it all.” She smiled warmly. “Thanks fer grabbin’ my books fer me, Laurey.”

“Of course. ‘S no problem,” Laurey returned, kind. She made sure everything was stacked neatly on the desk before coming over to the bed and picking up some of the folded laundry pile Annie had unloaded. “Wish it didn’ all weigh so damn much, though. That backpack was _heavy.”_

Annie laughed. “Little bit, yeah. Ain’ nothin’ a good strong farmgirl like you cain’t handle, though.”

“Somehow I managed,” Laurey exhaled and began to put away her friend’s clothes in the drawers. Ado Annie finished unloading her suitcase and moved it to the floor.

“Hey, grab th’ nail polish from my dresser, will ya?” Annie requested. “I wanna do yer nails.”

“Fine,” Laurey conceded, putting away the last of the folded clothes. She grabbed a couple of bottles and some tissues, then motioned for her friend to scoot over and sat down beside her on the bed. “Tell me ‘bout yer trip. Wanna hear it all,” she prompted, handing the bottles to Annie and pulling off her socks. Mid-afternoon Friday light shone in through the window. Finally it had cooled way down for the season, and soon enough the sun would set, but for now the room was pleasantly cool and bright, and Laurey had been looking forward greatly to hanging out with her best friend again after Ado Annie’s week away. 

Annie compared the bottles of nail polish and finally selected a pale yellow. She turned herself around and unscrewed the cap, leaning over to begin carefully applying the paint to Laurey’s toenails. “Trip was great. Interviews went great.”

Laurey held still. She sat hunched over, leaning on her arms crossed and resting on her knees.“You make any decisions yet ‘bout school?” 

“I dunno yet!” Annie chirped, focused intently on her paint job. “Think it’ll come down t’ scholarships, mostly.” Not acceptances; it was pretty much a sure deal Annie was going to get in anywhere she damn well pleased. “But I think I might be leanin’ towards GW ‘r American? Really liked DC,” she explained.

“Yeah? More’n New York?”  
  


“Yeah, more’n New York! Well, I like ‘em both. But they’s got the Smithsonians in DC, an’ they’s free, y’know. An’ the metro’s all-accessible, too.”

“Really? That’s good.”

“Yeah! The subway kinda sucks. But it was fun t’ try it.”

“I c’n imagine,” Laurey agreed, a wistful look in her eye. She could hardly remember the last time she’d left the state. “You do anythin’ ‘sides look at campuses?”

“Saw a few museums. Did some sightseein’ with Paw.” Annie used her thumb to wipe off a bit of nail polish and clean up an uneven edge. “Said ‘e used t’ do that with Momma. She liked travelin’. I think ‘e was pretty happy t’ go with me now too,” she explained, smiling at the thought. She and her father lived alone, ever since the same car accident that had injured Ado Annie as a kid had taken her mother’s life too. She’d been so young that she could hardly remember a time where she hadn’t always been the daughter of a single dad, but now especially it was nice to imagine her mother through stories and memories. And it was always nice to see her dad smile and relax instead of always being so stern, so serious, so protective of his little girl.

“‘M sure she’d be proud of you,” Laurey offered. Annie smiled back at her.

“Thanks. Me too.” After a beat, she looked back down and inspected her work thus far. With a nod, she continued, now working on the other foot while the first coat dried. “You seen yers recently?”

“Huh?”

“Yer Maw an’ Paw. They come an’ visit at all?”

“Nah,” Laurey said, shaking her head slightly. “Nah. Busy. Too long a drive to make it very often.” She brushed a bit of hair from her face and readjusted her seating, being careful not to mess up Annie’s work on her toenails. Annie pursed her lips and nodded in understanding. Both were used to being an only child, raised by a single caretaker. Though while Annie had had only her father since childhood, Laurey still had both her parents. But they lived hours away, in Oklahoma City, where they’d moved for work when Laurey was around 11. Nobody had wanted to separate, but the work and the money were needed; Aunt Eller was staying put on the family farm, anyhow, and agreed happily to look after Laurey during the year while her parents were away. The older she grew the less she saw of her parents during the year, but it made her appreciate her time with them that much more when they did find the time to come home and visit. “Think they’s plannin’ on comin’ ‘round over winter break anyhow, like usual. ‘Ll see ‘em then.”

“Mm, that’ll be fun!” Annie said. “Not too long from now.”

“Yeah. Lookin’ forward to it,” Laurey agreed, staring off into space. “Miss ‘em.”

“Mm.”

“Mm...you miss Will at all?”

“Huh?” Annie glanced up from the nail polish. Laurey made a face.

“Y’know, Will Parker? Yer _boyfriend?”_ Laurey repeated. “While you were on yer trip?”

Annie giggled and went back to work. “Oh, yeah. I guess.” Laurey made a face.

“You _guess?”_

“Hold still, yer messin’ me up!” Annie scolded lightly. “Yeow, I guess.”

_“He_ sure missed _you,”_ Laurey said, raising an eyebrow. 

Annie grinned. “Aw, ‘at’s sweet a’ him.”

“And…?”

“What?”  
  


“You _‘guess’_ you missed ‘im back?”

“Yeah? What’s wrong ‘ith that?” Annie asked, confused. “I mean, we texted.” 

“Well, I dunno. Ain’t’chu _supposed_ t’ miss somebody when yer away? If you love ‘em like that.”

Ado Annie considered this. “Guess so.” 

Laurey frowned. “Guess so?” she repeated, questioning.

“Yeah,” Annie shrugged, going back to work again. “Maybe y’ don’ _hafta_ , I dunno.”

“You do love Will, though, don’t’chu?” 

Annie nodded, smiling a little to herself. “Of course! ...Well, I hardly think ‘bout nobody less’n ‘e’s with me.” Laurey pursed her lips. It wasn’t the most helpful answer, not one she had been looking for, anyway, but it didn’t seem like she was about to get a better one anytime soon, so she decided to drop it. “So, tell me,” Annie continued, changing the subject after a beat. “What’d I miss this week? Anythin’ interestin’ happen ‘round here?”

Laurey snorted. “Since when does _anythin’_ happen ‘round here?” The pair of girls shared a laugh. “Much less somethin’ _interestin’.”_

“Well, did Curly do anythin’--”  
  


“Ugh, no. Not this week,” Laurey interrupted, rolled her eyes and groaned. “Thankfully. Well, he was outta town himself a few days. Recordin’.” She pursed her lips and didn’t sound particularly pleased. Ado Annie looked amused. “Didn’ bother me much when ‘e _was_ home, anyhow. Maybe ‘e was busy. I dunno, we don’ have a lotta classes together. Good. Didn’ hafta _deal_ with ‘im so much. He’s so annoying.” Annie giggled slightly and Laurey shot her a glare. “What?”

“Nothin’!” Annie insisted, grinning. Laurey scowled. “C’mon. You _know.”_

“I _do not,”_ Laurey insisted, looking slightly fed up. 

“Al _right,”_ Annie repled, singsong. “If y’ say so.”

Laurey pursed her lips and frowned, perching her chin on her arms on her knees and staring off into space once again. She was quiet and thoughtful; Annie diligently attended her toenails, now near halfway through working on a second coat. After a silence that felt far longer than it actually was, Laurey spoke again, soft. “I kissed Jud last weekend.” 

Annie paused. She stopped painting and looked up, frowning a little in curiosity, confusion, even slight disbelief. Laurey didn’t meet her eye. She looked a little distant, like her saying that hadn’t been planned at all. Like it shocked the both of them equally. She had hardly said it _to_ anyone, certainly not to Ado Annie; she’d simply said it, to the air, to the room, to space. Just to get it out. She’d kissed Jud last weekend. Now it was said, now it was real.

“...you did?” Ado Annie asked, quietly, after a time.

Laurey bit her lip slightly and breathed. “Yeah. I did.”

Annie tilted her head and regarded her friend closely. “Did’ju want to?”

Laurey considered this. “I’m not sure. I think so.”

“You think so?”

“I dunno.” There was a pause. “I mean, _I_ did it. So. I guess I did.” Her words came out slow and deliberate, like she were inspecting each one individually before letting it speak.

Annie was still and quiet for a beat, but slowly a smile crept over her face until she could hide her excitement no longer, and she took Laurey’s hands in hers and shook her shoulders. “Laurey!!” she squealed in moderate delight. Laurey looked dazed and slightly disturbed. “‘M so proud of you!”

“What? _Proud?”_ she repeated, shaking her head as if it would clear things up, which it didn’t. “Why?”

“‘Cause yer finally puttin’ yerself out there!” Annie answered, still bouncing a little. Laurey made a face and tried to take her hands back. “‘M happy fer you!”

_“Woah_ now, Annie,” Laurey protested. “That _ain’t_ what I said. That -- no. No,” she said, trying to be firm.

“C’mon now, Laurey! ‘S okay!” Annie released her hands and sat back up straight. “How long’ve I been sayin’ you need t’ start actually seein’ someone by now?”

“Annie,” Laurey sighed. Annie paid no heed.

“An’ I been _tellin’_ you, it’ll do you some _much-needed_ good if y’ just go for it already, I c’n tell--”  
  


_“--Annie!”_

“What!” Annie tossed her head confidently. “I mean it! I seen how you been. ‘S been years since--” she paused and thought for a beat. “Have you _ever--?”_ she asked. Laurey cut her off with a groan and put her face in her hands.

_“Ugh._ Yeah. I have.”

Annie pursed her lips. “When was that? Who--?” Laurey cut her off with another, louder groan.

“Jace Hutchins,” she answered. Annie began to laugh, and Laurey threw her head back. “Hush! It was _forever_ ago! I don’ wanna talk about it!” As Annie came back down from her giggling again, Laurey sighed heavily and brushed her hair back with her hands. “Wasn’t even _good,”_ she muttered to herself. 

“Yeah, he don’ seem too good,” Annie commented, still with a snicker. Laurey pursed her lips and looked disgruntled, embarrassed, hunched. “Think ‘e’s still into you, too--”

_“Ugh._ Yeah. I know.” Arms back on top of her knees, Laurey buried her face in them dramatically. “Don’ remind me.”

“Well-- nothin’ since then?” Annie asked, more gently. Laurey picked her head back up and looked down. Lips pursed, she thought, then shook her head. “Well. Then it’s _high_ time yer tryin’ again.”

“It ain’t _like_ that, though,” Laurey protested, her face scrunching in frustration. “I don’ even know _why_ I did it. I don’ know if I should have. I don’...I don’ know _why_ I _did that.”_ She groaned again and put her head back down. 

“‘S like I _told’_ ya, Laurey,” Annie insisted in good nature, shifting her seating and moving the nail polish bottles to the side. “Sometimes y’just need a little somethin’. Cain’t say no _all_ the time.”

“I ain’t like you, Annie,” Laurey sighed. She perched her chin on her arms and pursed her lips. “How d’you do it, anyway?”

“Do what?”  
  


“Y’know...I dunno.” Laurey shrugged. “Just...go for it. Like y’ do. How d’you do that?”

Ado Annie considered the question. “Well, I like it, bein’ with a feller. Don’ you?” Laurey was quiet; if nothing else, her silence wasn’t a _no._ Annie smiled a little to herself again. “I like when they like me. Makes me feel good. Like givin’ ‘em what they want.”

“Givin’ ‘em what they want, huh?” Laurey repeated. 

“Mhm. Don’t you get sorry for ‘em when they look like they wanna kiss you?” 

Laurey thought for a moment. She tried to recall how Jud had looked when they had danced, what it was about him that made her kiss him, what it was about _her_ that made her kiss him. And she tried to recall Curly, too, how he always looked like he wanted _something_ from her but it would often be quite hard to say for certain just what, a kiss or anything else. “...wouldn’t feel sorry for any man,” she concluded after a short silence. Annie pulled her legs in and rocked a little in thought. “...anyway, I can’t just go around kissin’ every guy that wants me to.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” Laurey scoffed slightly, but she realized she didn’t actually have a concrete refutation, and stammered. “Well -- you know. It ain’t right. Folks’ve told you that before, ‘m sure.”

“Yeow, they tol’ me,” Annie conceded, nodding. “Ain’t so much a question a’ not knowin’ what t’ do, though.” Laurey made a face. Annie smiled again, sincere. “Just cain’t resist ‘em, y’know. Other girls who play coy an’ hard t’ get, but they ain’t havin’ any _fun._ _I_ cain’t be prissy an’ quaint.” Laurey frowned while her friend kept going. “An’ ‘s like I tol’ you, I just get sorry fer ‘em. When they start lookin’ real sweet at me, an’ talkin’ purty. Get all shaky from horn t’ hoof. Cain’t tell ‘em _no_ at that point! An’ I don’ wanna! Never complain ‘bout nothin’, y’know, ‘til it’s too _late_ fer restraint.” Annie continued on, but Laurey looked stuck on something. “An’ by that point, ‘s like, there ain’t nothin’ _to_ say, so y’ don’--”

“Wait, Annie,” Laurey interrupted. “What’d’you mean? ‘Til it’s too late?”

Ado Annie slowed down a bit and stuck out her lips in thought. “Well, ‘s like, when yer goin’ kinda far with a feller, y’know -- at some point you ain’t gonna just _stop,_ right? Cain’t just say no, even if y’ wanted to.”

“You c’n always say no.” Laurey looked concerned, distraught. “Cain’t you?”

“I dunno. I cain’t,” Annie offered. “Never did before, anyway. Hardly never _wanted_ to, though.”

“Hardly?” Laurey repeated. Ado Annie looked her in the eyes, now beginning to consider how serious her friend suddenly seemed. She sat back a little more then, after a moment dropping her chin to frown down at her lap, hands folded and thumbs idly wrestling each other. “Annie,” said Laurey, softly. 

“...not that I c’n think of, hardly,” Annie added after a short quiet. She picked her head up and held it tilted a bit, looking back to her friend with a neat, idle frown and half-lidded eyes. “Ain’t never...thought ‘bout it much ‘fore now, though.”

“Nothin’s--?” Laurey started. Annie shook her head. Laurey let out a breath. “Okay. That’s -- okay.”

“Is ‘at what yer ‘fraid of?” Annie asked. Laurey picked a bit of skin from her lip, fidgeting. “Sayin’ no?”

“...’m not sure,” she answered after a moment, low and soft. “Feel like I’ve been sayin’ no fer years. Why would I still be ‘fraid of it?” she asked, a genuine question, unsure herself. 

“Do you _like_ Jud?” Annie asked.

“I...I dunno.” Laurey seemed upset by her own lack of assurance. 

“He’s kinda cute.”

“Yeah. I don’...I don’ know. He is. I just...I dunno.” She sighed and tried again. “You ever get the feelin’, when yer ‘round someone, that there might be somethin’ not quite right with ‘em?

“You think somethin’s wrong with Jud?”

“No, no -- I mean, not really. I just…” she groaned again in frustration. “I don’ know. Somethin’ feels _weird_ ‘bout ‘im t’ me. Like I c’n never figure out what ‘e’s gonna do next.” A beat. “‘At’s a little scary, I guess.” She used to be so sure of herself, wasn’t she? When she was younger, she thought. When she had a bad feeling she trusted it. What happened since then, she wondered? When did she start doubting her own instincts?

“‘S it ‘cause a’ Curly?”

“What?” Laurey seemed to have forgotten that detail.

“Would’ya rather’ve kissed _him_ ‘nstead?”

Laurey’s brows knit together, her mouth scrunched up. “No. I--” she huffed, brushing back her hair, grabbing on to some of it, tugging gently. _“No,”_ she insisted. Annie raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Ugh! I just -- we ain't _thing."_

"You could be," Annie offered. Laurey looked vaguely annoyed. "Are you an' Jud even a _thing?"_ she followed up. "An' you still kissed him."

Laurey’s fingers tensed in her hair. “We ain’t. I don’...think. Not just now.”

“Do y’ _wanna_ be?”

“We’re goin’ in circles, Annie.”

“No we ain’t. Do you like Curly?”

“I don’ wanna answer that,” Laurey glared, grumpy.

“So, yes, then.” Laurey made a face. She reached behind her and pitched a pillow at Ado Annie, who ducked to the side and caught it with a giggle.

“It ain’t like that! We’s just friends an’ we have been fer _years.”_ She huffed. “He’s just also an asshole ‘bout everythin’ now.” Now she sighed heavily.

“Mm.”

“I _don’_ like him like that.”

“Does this have anythin’ t’ do with how ever since September Gertie’s been makin’ faces at--”

_“No,”_ Laurey interrupted, harsh and clearly affected. Annie giggled. “C’n we _please_ change the subject now?”

“You brought it up.” 

“‘M regrettin’ it now.”

Annie snorted and hugged the pillow to her chest. “The kiss ‘r the conversation?” she asked, then snickered at Laurey’s look-that-could-kill. “‘Lright, fine, ‘ll drop it.” Laurey seemed placated, but quickly Annie added, “But real quick -- one last question.” Laurey looked irritated, dramatically, but allowed it. Annie smiled, then tried to put away her giddiness for gossip and be sincere. “If y’ had t’ pick -- who’d it be?” Laurey groaned again, expression contorting in exasperation, frustration, vague disgust, exhaustion, a whole cocktail of emotions at once. Annie tried to remain calm and caring. “‘Cause, honest, I wanna see y’ happy. ‘Ll help if’n I can.”

“I don’ know if a man’ll fix anythin’, Annie.”

“Okay, so it don’ have to be a man--”

_“--oh-kay,_ enough of that,” Laurey interrupted, making a face and breaking from her hunched position.

“--really, I c’n look ‘round fer you, I bet Gertie--”

_“--enough!_ Nope, no! Not doin’ this!” Laurey exclaimed, reaching for something Annie’s dresser. “You gonna keep bullyin’ me, I’m takin’ off the nail polish,” she insisted, grabbing a bottle of nail polish remover. Annie’s eyes went wide and she leaned forward, reaching and grabbing for it.

“Noo! Don’ do that! Laurey!”

“Nope! No! You lost yer privileges!” Laurey added firmly, escaping from Ado Annie’s reach by jumping off the bed and retreating a few paces. Annie fell forward with a _fwump_ into her quilt, then propped herself back up on her arms and turned to shoot a look at Laurey, who couldn’t help but grin back at her and dangle the bottle of nail polish remover from her hand in front of her.

“No fair! Give it back!” Annie squealed.

“You want it back, come an’ get it!” Laurey chirped teasingly. Annie pitched the same pillow back at her, and Laurey batted it away onto the floor.

“Ableist!” Annie cried, and they both cracked up, tossing their heads back and laughing brightly. Calming down, Annie sat herself back up while Laurey retrieved the pillow and returned, first placing the bottle back on the dresser then sitting back down cross-legged beside her friend. Annie gently put a hand on Laurey’s leg. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“‘M glad y’ told me,” Annie said. Two pairs of bright eyes met each other. “Really. Y’know you c’n tell me anythin’, right?” Laurey nodded. Annie smiled at her. “Won’ tell no one if’n y’ don’ want me to.”

“Thanks, Annie.” She took Annie’s hand and Annie gave it a squeeze.

“Wanna see you happy.” She nodded to punctuate the sentiment. “An’, at least, _I_ think this could be good fer you. Ain’t it worth a shot?”

Laurey sighed. “Maybe. I dunno.”

“Y’ gotta make up yer mind, Laurey.”

“I know, I know.” Annie squeezed her hand again. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and summary by Orville Peck.
> 
> Shoutout to Meg for putting up with my consternation with writing this one. Also for the song idea. Also this one is so long again I can't help it dear lord


	10. All Your Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Would you catch a couple thousand fireflies_   
>  _And put them in a lamp to light my world?_   
>  _All dressed up in a tux and bow tie_   
>  _Hand delivered to a lonely girl_

From the outside, the little farmhouse looked like some picturesque postcard of season’s greetings. A light dusting of snow frosted the roof, the bushes, the trees. Crystal icicles hung from the edges of the gutter. The sky was a deep, dark blue, the shade that only exists right around the solstice. Yet the sweet-scented smoke puffing from the chimney and the warm glow shining through the windows were ascozy and beckoning a welcome as any other to Curly as he pulled his truck into the drive and parked it. Hopping out, he exhaled and checked his pockets, noticing the fog of his breath in the cold, dry winter air. The frozen ground crunched under his boots as he crossed the yard and climbed the porch steps. At the door, he stopped and breathed on his hands to warm his fingers, then lifted one and turned it round to knock on the wood with his knuckle.

From within he heard a muffled but remarkably eager voice saying “I’ll get it, Aunt Eller,” and light footsteps. He stepped back as the knob turned and the door swung open, revealing Laurey in soft pajamas and sparkling eyes. She looked up and Curly smiled when she met his eye, though he noticed her deflate a bit in her excitement upon seeing him.

“Howdy, Miss Laurey,” he greeted, quirking an eyebrow and being charming as ever.

From somewhere inside the house, Aunt Eller called a “that them?”

Laurey turned and threw back over her shoulder a “not yet, Aunt Eller.” Turning back to Curly, she looked up at him with patient, curious anticipation. “Hey. What’re you doin’ ‘round here?” she asked him. “”S Christmas, shouldn’t’chu be at home?”

He chuckled once. “Probably. But all my folks’re visitin’ so I snuck out while they wasn’t lookin’.”

Laurey smirked. “What, you mean the big famous country star for once ain’t the center of attention?” He noticed something easygoing in her smile and her eyes, like she was more inclined to put up with him tonight than usual, for whatever reason.

“Not when John’s brought ‘is fiancée ‘round an’ Eli’s doin’ ‘is damn best t’ get on my nerves.”   


“Like usual.”   


“Like usual,” Curly nodded. They both knew how much of a pain his brothers were, in very different ways but often comparable in severity.

“Ain’t’chur Momma gonna be mad when she notices you missin’?” she raised an eyebrow back at him, friendly and familiar.

“Spent all last night with ‘em all, an’ went t’ church with ‘em this mornin’. I  _ deserve _ a break at this point,” he retorted. She laughed lightly, and it made his heart beat. “Needed t’ stop by an’ see y’ anyhow.”

“You did, huh?”

“Mhm,” he smirked, pulling out a small box from his pocket. “Needed t’ give y’ this.”

Laurey blinked, and her grin melted first into a confused frown, then a more curious expression as she watched him produce the little box and hold it out to her. Leaning on the door frame, she gently brushed it with her fingers, then took it in her own to hands, turning it over in inspection, a small smile playing at her lips. It was wrapped in colored paper and tied rather crudely with a bit of ribbon. Chuckling again, she glanced back up at Curly, who was looking patiently impatient and grinning smugly. “What’s this s’pposed t’ be?” she asked, trying to hide her amusement.

“Y’gotta open it t’ find out,” he answered. “Happy Hanukkah.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that, just once, and lightly. “Ended a week ago, Curly.”

“Well, I been busy!” he huffed, feigning exasperation. She giggled and looked back down at the box in her hands, turning it over with her fingers. Her curls fell loose down and around her head, obscuring some of her face from his view. “Well, go on, open it ‘lready.”

Pursing her lips, she righted the box and pulled on the ribbon until it came untied. She pulled the paper apart at the seams as though it were a puzzle: carefully, trying not to rip it. Curly couldn’t figure out if she was always so deliberate, or if she was playing with him still. She flipped open the lid and stared at the contents, unable to help the smile that spread across her face as she studied the pair of gold earrings inside. Curly was patient, and offered her a warm expression when she finally looked back up at him.

“Yer welcome.”

“How did y--?”   


“You said y’ like gold earrings,” he shrugged, trying-but-not-really to not be smug.

“I -- yeah. Look good on me,” she conceded, unable to hide how charmed she was. Curly beamed in triumph. 

“They do,” he agreed.

Closing the box, she chuckled once more and looked back up at him. “Well, shit. Didn’ ‘xpect this.”

“You don’ have t’ worry yerself ‘bout givin’ me anythin’ in return, Miss Laurey,” he assured her, holding up a hand and putting on a chivalrous but triumphant air. “‘S jist a lil’ ol’ gift.”

“Well-- I--” she started, bu t was cut off by the sound of footsteps approaching from within the house. Laurey glanced back over her shoulder. Her aunt came into view. 

“You just gonna stand there an’ let the heat out all night, Laurey?” she asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow at her niece. “Who’s at the door this time a’ night, anyhow?”

“‘S Curly,” she answered, slightly holding up the earring box. “Came by t’ give me this.”

“Evenin’, Aunt Eller,” he nodded his hello.

Eller smiled and looked at the box, then him, raising an eyebrow. “Ain’t that sweet. Curly, yer face is all red,” she pointed out, which only made it worse. “Come inside ‘fore y’ freeze t’ death out here. An’ let all the heat  _ out,” _ she said, again more pointedly at Laurey, who pressed her shoulder to the door frame and avoided eye contact. “‘Ll fix you a plate. C’mon in ‘lready, child,” Eller insisted, turning and retreating.

Curly held up a hand. “Nah, I shouldn’ impose on you folks.”

Laurey made a face. “What’s stoppin’ you now? Ain’ nothin’ ever did before.”

Curly shrugged. “It’s Christmas?” he offered.

“Ain’t optional,” Eller called back. “Get inside ‘fore I slam that door in yer face.” Curly glanced to Laurey and met her eye. She made a face and turned to go back inside.

Shrugging a ‘what the hell,’ Curly followed, shutting the door and the cold December air out behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and summary by the Band Perry.
> 
> Jeez, this one took so long. And it's so short too! Sorry, life got in the way. The next chapter should (hopefully) be up soon, or at least sooner than in another month.


	11. Highway 20 Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _So when you drive, and the years go flying by_   
>  _I hope you smile, if I ever cross your mind_   
>  _It was a pleasure of my life, and I cherished every time_   
>  _And my whole world, it begins and ends with you_   
>  _On that highway 20 ride_

Just inside the door, Curly breathed in the warm air of the house. With the fireplace going, it smelled of woodsmoke, pine, cinnamon, and cooking oil. Save for the silver menorah on the mantle (he supposed they had yet to put it away), nothing but the extra blankets on the couch indicated the season. It was almost as the house always was, which Curly found amusing. His own family and most of those he knew tended to go all-out with the Christmas decorating, usually starting in early November and lasting until mid-January at the earliest. But the Williams refrained. As a result it was one of the only houses this side of town that felt like a  _ house _ more so than a magazine spread this time of year.

Laurey returned to her spot on the couch, sitting cross-legged and comfortable in her fleece blanket nest, humming something idly to herself. Curly pulled off his boots and left them by the door, then began to shed his jacket. Eller returned from the kitchen and handed him an empty plate. Curly glanced down at it.

“Make yerself comfortable,” she instructed.

“Chinese take-out?” he questioned upon noticing the food laid out in boxes on the coffee table, more amused than anything else. Laurey snorted from the couch. Eller smiled.

“Happy Jewish Christmas, Curly,” she answered with a laugh, then motioned for him to sit at the sofa. “Eat up. They’s plenty, you know how take-out is,” she added, re-taking her own place in the chair beside the couch. Curly glanced over at Laurey, who shrugged at him and picked up her own plate from the coffee table. He came over and joined her on the couch. He leaned forward, piling some food onto his plate; he’d sworn he wasn’t hungry, he’d eaten dinner with his folks at home, but his stomach seemed to have forgotten that fact. Laurey fiddled with the remote control, turning the volume up on the TV, which was currently playing some movie or another. Finally settled, Curly pulled the plastic cover off a disposable fork and sat back on the couch, beginning to eat. Laurey put the remote down and made a face at him.

“You can’t use chopsticks?” she asked, with light derision. He gave her a side-eye, sniffed and shoved a forkful of rice into his mouth. “Wow, some cultured world traveled you are,” she teased with a chuckle.

He sneered at her through a full mouth, which mostly amounted to some not-very-aggressive squinting. “Ain’t got nothin’ t’ do with it, Miss Laurey  _ smarty,”  _ he shot back. She pointedly picked up her plate and used a pair of chopsticks to take a bite of her own food back at him. “I ain’t been outside th’ country yet neither,” he added after finishing his first bite, now going in for a second.

“Yeah, yeah,” she responded absently, picking at her plate. It was mostly empty. “‘S only a matter of time.”

Lapsing into a quiet, Curly turned back to his plate of food. Eller looked more focused on her knitting than anything else, she worked on what looked like a blanket. The Williams’ dog, Bo, was solidly and comfortably snoozing by the fireplace -- graciously so, Curly thought, for the hound was not always entirely fond of him despite how frequently he found himself round the farmhouse, and how the dog had known him practically all his life. He noticed Laurey every so often stealing looks to her phone and to the door, not paying so much attention to the movie. Clearing his throat, he broke the relative silence and asked, “You waitin’ fer somethin’?” Laurey looked at him as if she had just been pulled out of a daydream.

“Huh?”

“I mean,” he continued, sniffing. “Y’ seem distracted. Y’ keep lookin’ at the door, an’ yer phone, an’ it seemed like when I showed up you were ‘xpectin’ someone else.”

Laurey looked thoughtful for a second. “Um. Yeah, actually,” she answered, shifting her seat and setting her plate to the side. 

“Her folks’re comin’ home t’night,” Eller chimed in from her seat. 

“This late?” he asked, after checking the time on his phone. Laurey pulled her knees in and fussed with the blanket over top. She wore a small, neat frown on her lips. Curly thought he’d upset her and began to worry.

“Storm out west closed some roads,” Eller explained calmly. “They’s on their way, but they’s said traffic’s a nightmare just outside the city. Plus them country roads ain’t so well maintained, but the worst a’ the storm’s behind ‘em by a few hours anyhow, movin’ in the opposite direction.” Curly dropped his shoulders and relaxed again, leaning back into the cushion of the couch. “Should be here any minute now,” Aunt Eller continued, picking up her mug from the side table and had a drink before returning quietly to her knitting.

“Oh,” said Curly, and he went back mostly to picking at his food. Laurey watched the movie, occasionally picking her lip or a nail, though if he had to guess from the look in her eye, her mind was still occupied elsewhere. No longer eating, she set her plate back down on the table after a short while, trading it for a warm, half-empty mug of something fragrant. He watched her lift it to her lips and take a sip.

“What’s’at?” he asked, indicating the cup. She lowered it, and he leaned over, giving it a sniff. He made a face. “Really? ‘S--”

“Mulled wine,” Laurey answered, shrugging him off. She chuckled at the look on his face; he glanced away to Eller, who was smirking, as if to ask if she allowed this.

“‘S fine, she can have one cup,” Eller quirked an eyebrow and took a sip from her own mug. Curly glanced back to Laurey, who half squinted and made a motion with her hand that said ‘more or less.’ 

“Didn’ know you drank,” he commented. 

“She’s seventeen, ‘s the holidays. She ain’ goin’ nowhere tonight,” Eller said.

“What’s a holiday ‘thout a little wine?” Laurey added, a little quiet, a little playful.

“Heh, don’ think my momma’d approve.” 

“Fuckin’ momma’s boy,” Laurey replied, still quiet, but laughing at first, then biting her tongue and muttering a “sorry, Aunt Eller,” when her aunt shot her a glare. Curly chuckled, guilty as charged.

“Well, she ain’t ‘round here t’night. You want a mug, ‘ll fetch you one, but try some a’ Laurey’s first t’ see if y’ like it,” Eller said. Laurey made a small noise of protest but did not react quickly enough to prevent Curly from leaning over and stealing a big sip from her mug.

“Don’ drink it  _ all,” _ she protested, shoving him off. 

“Jeez, how d’ you  _ drink _ that stuff?” he asked, playfully, but coughing. It was sweet and pleasantly spiced, but stronger than he anticipated, bitter and burning. 

“Least it ain’t Manischwitz. You act like you ain’ never had wine before,” Laurey derided. She took another sip and raised an eyebrow. He didn’t seem to realize it was a mixed drink; she ‘neglected’ to tell him. “Thought Catholics loved wine.”

“Not this Catholic,” Curly laughed. “I prefer beer.”   


“Baby.” 

“I guess you don’ want a mug, then, Curly?” Eller raised an eyebrow.

“No thank you ma’am,” he chirped back at her, grinning.

“More fer me,” Laurey interjected. Her aunt eyed her; she eyed her back. 

“I’ll stick t’ beer I guess,” said Curly.

“Yer momma won’t let you near wine but she lets you drink  _ that _ dishwater?” Laurey asked, tilting her head at him.

He scoffed. “Momma ain’t know everythin’ I ever do, y’know.”

“Not ‘til I tell her,” Laurey giggled.

“Laurey Williams, you wouldn’  _ dare.” _

“Oh, would it ruin the pop star’s fun if his momma ain’t gonna let ‘im have a drink ev’ry once in a while on tour?”

“Hey, ‘m 18! I ain’ no momma’s boy no more!”   
  


“Yer always gonna be a momma’s boy, McLain. An’ y’ still can’t buy a beer for yerself fer another three years.” 

“When yer  _ famous _ y’ don’  _ need _ t’ buy ‘em fer yersel--” 

“Okay, enough a’ this, you delinquent,” Laurey cut him off, waving her hand. He made a face and returned to his plate of food. 

“No more of a delinquent’n  _ you, _ Miss Don’-Touch-My-Mug.” He adopted an air of light obnoxious teasing, turning up his nose and smirking smugly. 

_ “I _ got permission.”

  
  
“So’s yer gonna drag yer poor ol’ aunt into this? Wanna get her ‘rrested fer contributin’ t’ the delinquency of a minor, huh?” 

“Who you callin’ old?” Eller kept her head down but sent a warning glare in his direction, catching. She was merely playing along, but her intimidation factor was something else. He squirmed. 

Laurey leaned forward and set her mug down on the coffee table. “Listen, I ain’--” she started.

“Well--” Curly overlapped her, but something caught her attention and she stuck out an arm to shut him up.

“Wait, hush,” she instructed.

Curly looked confused. “What--?”

“I said hush!” she waved her hand at him. Over by the fireplace, Bo awoke and picked his head up. Curly shut up but looked confused, perhaps even marginally offended, until they heard footsteps on the porch, and voices, and saw the knob turn and the door push open. Bo's tail began to wag. Laurey grinned brightly and sprang off the couch.

“We’re home,” said a woman’s voice, huffing from the cold and relief. No sooner had she set a single foot inside the house did she have the wind almost knocked out of her again as her daughter darted over and threw her arms around her in a tight hug, and buried her face in her chest. She made a noise, then chuckled, wrapping her arms around Laurey and rubbing her back. 

“Hi, momma,” said Laurey, muffled through a thick winter coat.

“Hiya, baby. ‘S good t’ see you ‘gain too.”

“You ladies wanna make some room?” asked a man, appearing in the door behind them holding a couple bags. “Gotta get the stuff in before we let all the heat out,” he said as the hugging pair almost reluctantly shuffled over to make room, just enough for him to squeeze inside and toe the door shut behind him.

“Howdy, David,” greeted Aunt Eller, putting her knitting aside and standing.

“Miss Eleanor Murphy!” he returned warmly. “How’s the husband?”   


Eller gave him a look. “How in the hell should I know?” she answered flatly. Then, with a smirk, she shot back, “how’s yours?” Mr. Williams laughed, full and bold. Curly watched from the couch, amused. He could see where Laurey got her sense of humor from; it must run in the family. “Welcome back, Dave,” Eller added, her smile warming. “Make yerselves at home. Food’s on the table, help yerselves,” she instructed, then moved to the kitchen. Laurey finally detatched herself from her mother, only to immediately latch onto her father in another hug as soon as he set down the bags, just as tight as the first.

“Hey, kiddo,” he chuckled, hugging her back.

Laurey’s mother, now free from her daughter’s grasp, sighed contentedly and began to shed her winter layers. She hung her jacket up on the coatrack and turned to the living room. Curly grinned and waved from the couch.

“Evenin’, Misses Williams,” he chirped.

“Curly!” she greeted, coming over and beckoning for a hug. Curly stood and obliged. “Feels like we haven’t seen you since you was little. How you doin’, baby?”

“Doin’ well, Misses Williams,” he answered, friendly and easygoing.

“You know, we heard you on the radio tonight.”

“Aw, did’ju now?” Curly chuckled, quickly stealing a glance towards Laurey. She no longer had her face buried in his coat or her arms wrapped tight around him, but she stood pressed up against his side with his arm around her, and she didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the conversation.

“Yes, we were listenin’ to the country station on the drive, and I heard your song come on, and I turned to David and I said, ‘ain’t that that McLain boy, the one Laurey’s friends with?’” He couldn’t help but grin and beam a little, even having grown used to the praise over the past year. “We’re proud of you, baby. Yer doin’ so well, and so young!” She patted him on the arm.

“Aw, thank y’ kindly, ma’am. Means a lot.”

“Here, Alice. Have somethin’ to eat,” Eller reappeared from the kitchen, handing Laurey’s mother a plate and a cup of mulled wine.

“Thank you, Eller,” she said, taking the plate and the cup and beginning to gather some food for herself. Curly sat back down on the couch, but scootched over to make more room. Eller moved to hand the other plate and cup to her brother.

“Here y’are. Figured you ain’t had much t’ eat yet.”

“Y' figured correctly,” he answered, patting Laurey on the arm before pulling away and taking the offered dishware. Laurey made a face, but returned to her place on the couch. Mrs. Williams sat down in the middle, between her and Curly, and Laurey curled up and made herself comfortable leaning against her mother’s side. Eller returned to her own chair.

“How was the drive?” Curly asked, polite. 

“Oh, horrible. Storm out west closed a lot of roads,” answered Mrs. Williams. “And traffic in the city was a mess. You’d think on Christmas it’d be clearer, but apparently not.”

“Was pretty smooth once we hit the highway, though. Not many travelling out that way and the storm was past, they’d treated the roads better,” Mr. Williams said, coming over to the coffee table and gathering his own food. “But we’s finally here; thank god for that.” He looked as well for a place to sit; Curly noticed, and started to stand.

“Here, you c’n sit, Mister Williams. I should probably be headin’ home anyhow,” he said. “Don’ wanna interrupt nothin’.” 

“Naw, kiddo, it’s fine, you stay put,” Mr. Williams insisted.

“Well--” Curly tried to protest, or tried to try to protest. Aunt Eller eyed him from her chair over a small smile.

“Whatever happened to ‘the more the merrier,’ Curly?” she said, quirking a brow.

“But ‘e’s been drivin’ all night, I c’n stand,” he offered, gesturing from Laurey’s father to the couch. “Or I’ll take the floor, ‘s fine. I don’ mind.”

“Well, that’s awful kind of you. Thanks, Curly,” he said, taking a seat. Curly smiled and shuffled to the side, plopping down on the ground and leaning back against the couch at Laurey’s feet. She eyed him from above but said nothing, too content still at her parents’ arrival to be bothered. Too tired, too satisfied for anything else but to curl up next to her parents for the first time in months and enjoy a night in together as a family. Curly was just happy to be there. It was a nice atmosphere, peaceful and warm, which was certainly better than anything he'd get back in his own household tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and summary by the Zac Brown Band.
> 
> I said the next chapter wouldn't take forever and I kept my word!


	12. Let Me Down Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If I fall, can ya let me down easy?_   
>  _If I leave my heart with you tonight_   
>  _Will you promise me that you're going to treat it right?_

The night continued to pass, the wood crackled in the fireplace, the TV off since nobody had been paying it any attention anyway.. After their dinners it wasn’t too long before Laurey’s parents said good night and retired for the evening; it had been a long drive, longer than expected. No one blamed them for their exhaustion. Laurey let them go to bed; she would see them in the morning. What a relief it was to finally say that again. Aunt Eller meanwhile stayed seated in her own chair, knitting until she fell asleep in her place. Curly, despite the vacancy on the couch, stayed put on the floor, for whatever reason, or none at all.

“Hey, Laurey,” he said after a while. Laurey looked up from her phone and then glanced down at him.

“What?”

"Did yer dad call Aunt Eller ‘Miss Murphy?’”

“Oh. Yeah, he did.”

“Huh.” He paused. “Why’d he do that?”

“‘Cause that’s her name?”

“What?” Curly made a face and leaned back, meeting her eye. She scrunched up her nose in response. “Ain’t yer last name Williams?”

“Yeah, _my_ last name.”

“An’ yer dad’s?”

“Yeah.”

“Ain’t she his brother?”  
  


“Yeah.”

  
  
“So…?” he said, gesticulating.

“She took her husband’s name, dumbass. Did’ju forget people do that?”

_“Huh?”_ Curly said, more loudly than necessary. Laurey nudged him with her foot to tell him to shut up, people were sleeping. _“Husband?”_

“Yeah, _husband,”_ she answered, making fun of his confused tone of voice.

“Aunt Eller ain’t _married.”_

“Did’ju think Dad was makin’ that up?” Laurey snorted.

“Thought ‘e was jokin’.”

“Well, ‘e _was_ jokin’,” she conceded. “But ‘s also true.”

“When in the hell did Eller get married? An’ t’ _who?”_

“Michael Murphy,” Aunt Eller’s voice answered groggily from her chair. The two teenagers looked over, surprised.

“Oh, shit,” Curly muttered under his breath. Laurey kicked him lightly again.

“Aunt Eller. Didn’ know you was still awake,” Laurey said, pulling her knees in. 

“I wasn’t, now I am.” Aunt Eller took a deep breath and picked her head up, rolling her neck. Peeking open an eye, she peered at the pair by the couch. “Didn’ know you two was, neither.” Laurey pursed her lips and glanced down, to Curly, who sat forward.

“You was married, Aunt Eller?” he asked, like a wide-eyed young child. Eller chuckled, sitting up herself and beginning to put away her knitting.

“Yeah, I was. ‘Fore you kids were born, anyhow.” She paused and smiled, nostalgically.

“What happened to ‘im?” Curly prompted, curious. “Did ‘e pass away?”

“Oh, no. Hated the bastard. Kicked his ass out years ago.” Eller snickered, Laurey did too; Curly was caught off guard, mouth agape.

“Oh--I. Uh. Well,” he stammered.

“I s’ppose we ain’t technically _‘divorced.’_ Dunno if the papers an’ what all went through ‘r not. I just ain’t never gone down t’ the courthouse t’ change the name back...s’ppose it don’ matter much now anyhow. ‘S ancient hist’ry at this point.” Everyone still just knew her as Eller Williams, anyway; no one except bill collectors cared of the legality of that. The older woman shrugged and stood up, bent back slightly as to stretch her back, then began to head out of the room. “Well, ‘s late. ‘Bout time I turn in fer the night.” Pausing, she peeked at the two teenagers with a raised brow. “Don’ stay up too late, kiddos, y’hear?”

“Yes Aunt Eller,” Laurey responded dutifully and sleepily, pulling in her legs and wrapping her arms around them.

“Yes’m,” chirped Curly at the same time, craning his neck back to grin at Aunt Eller upside-down. She gave them both a smile before turning again and leaving the room, which fell silent for a few moments before Curly turned now to crane his head back at Laurey this time. “Think we should be gettin’ off t’ bed soon too?”

“Not when y’ put it like _that,_ I don’,” she answered, making a face and once again giving him a light shove with her foot. 

“Aw, c’mon now. You want me t’ drive home this time a’ night in the dark an’ snow, all on my lonesome?”

“Ain’t even snowin’ no more, wuss." He pouted. "Don' look at me like that."

"Like what?" he asked, sticking out his lips exaggeratedly.

"Like _that,_ you ass. Don' _sigh_ an' _gaze_ at me," she insisted, resisting a snicker. "C'mon. You really can’t stay.”

“Aw, baby, it’s cold outside,” he returned, playful and sing-song.

She squinted back at him. “You’ve _got_ t’ go away.”

“Baby, it’s _cold_ outside!” Curly grinned, hamming it up.

Laurey caught on. She exhaled and relented. _“This evening has been, so very nice--”_ she sang lightly, playing along.

Curly overlapped, _“Been hopin’ that I’d drop in? I’ll hold your hands, they’re just like ice.”_ He put his hand back and found hers, holding it and rubbing her fingers with his thumb.

_“Your mother will start to worry--”_

_“Beautiful, what’s the hurry?”_

_“Your father will be pacing the floor--”_

_“Listen to the fireplace roar.”_

_“So really you’d better scurry--”_

_“Beautiful, please don’t hurry!”_

_“Well maybe just a half a drink more…”_

_“Put some records on while I pour…”_

Laurey started, then stuttered and trailed off. “I don’t remember the next--” she whispered.

Curly turned round to face her and prompted, _“The neighbors might think--”_ She joined again, falling back into the rhythm, then trailing off again as he answered himself, _“baby, it’s_ bad _out there.”_ And he continued again for her, _“say, what’s in this drink?”_ cheekily picking up her mug from the coffee table and handing it to her.

She shifted to sit cross-legged, and picked up the next line, momentarily switching parts: _“No cabs to be had out there.”_ Then, returning to her own: _“I wish I knew how…”_

_“Your eyes are like starlight now.”_

_“...to break this spell…”_

_“I’ll take your hat, your hair looks swell.”_

_“I ought to say no, no, no sir.”_

_“Mind if I move in closer?”_

_“At least I’m gonna say that I tried.”_

_“What’s the sense in hurting my pride?”_

_“I really can’t stay,”_

_“Baby, don’t hold out--”_

Facing each other, only inches apart, sang the last line together in harmony, _“Ah, but it’s cold outside...”_ The pair held still for a moment before Laurey took her hands back from his and returned them to her lap, dropping her head and chuckling.

“C’mon, no second verse?” Curly asked, still grinning.

“I don’ know the rest,” she lied. 

“Pull up the lyrics on yer phone--”

“Shush,” she told him, leaning back but still smiling. “My folks are sleepin’. Don’ wanna wake ‘em up.”

“Right,” he said, dropping his voice back down to barely more than a whisper. He studied her face. “Yer a really good singer, Laurey.” She met his eye for a beat then dropped her head again, letting her hair fall down and break their eye contact. “Didn’ know y’ could sing like that.”

“I’m in choir,” she said, then raised an eyebrow at him. “Maybe y’d know that if y’ actually went t’ school every now an’ then.”

“‘At’s different. I mean singin’ ‘lone. You have a real nice voice.”

“Thanks,” she said. He could still see her smile. 

“Why don’cha sing more?” he asked. She picked her head back up at that. “I should write us a duet--” he started.

“I don’ sing in front of folks,” she interrupted.

“What ‘bout choir?”

“‘At’s different.”

“Ex _act_ ly. Well, yer good ‘nough t’ sing on yer own. Y’ should, some point.”

“Curly,” she sighed. “I ain’t like you.” He expected her to explain further, but Laurey left it at that.

“Well...was fun. Sounded nice. Think ‘bout it,” he finished, still looking up at her face.

“Mm.” She sighed again, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them again. Looking thoughtfully at nothing in particular, she said after a moment, “I don’ know how you do it.”

“Huh? Do what?”

“Go ‘round everywhere. Singin’ to everyone. Don’ know how y’ do it.” She looked back down at him, a small, contemplative frown on her lips.

“Ah. Well, y’see, Laurey,” Curly started, leaning back on his hands and tilting his head. “The secret is that I’m a massive attention whore.” Laurey snorted at that, and he grinned. He loved to make her laugh.

“Mm, should say so,” she agreed, chuckling.

“So’s it just comes nat’rally, I guess. I like singin’ fer folks. Like the lights, like the mics, like the stage. Like the fans. Like travelin’.”

“Mm...must be nice. Travelin’ ‘round.”

“It is,” Curly agreed, beginning to notice her growing distance, her melting smile. “Should try it sometime.”

“Mm.”

“Could, uh. Come with me sometime.” 

“Cain’t.”

“Why not?”

  
“School. Work. Take yer pick.” Laurey shifted to lean back into the cushion of the couch, removing her arms from her legs and letting them drop. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Also, yer annoyin’ as all hell.” 

“Occupational hazard,” he scoffed in response, and liked that it managed to get her to crack at least a tiny smile again. 

“An’ folks would talk. Y’know.” She continued, but left it at that. Curly leaned forward, folding his arms on his knees.

“They’d talk, huh? ‘Bout what?” He heard her exhale through her nose, watched her purse her lips, glance away. “Is ‘at so?” He breathed, then tilted his head and added, “You don’ think they do already?” But she seemed disinterested now, or zoned out, or ignoring him on purpose, one of the above. So now it was his turn to exhale, softly, and lean back, glancing aside somewhere to think of what next to say. It came to him, after a few moments, and he looked back to her. “Well, least you c’n do is get off the farm fer a while. How’s the college search goin’?” he asked, leaning forward and sounding genuine, sincere, interested.

Laurey met his eye again, but he did not take the lack of excitement on her face as a good sign. After a beat, she answered. “I, uh. Got waitlisted one place…” Curly’s face fell -- “...accepted at two others.” -- and rose again. “Still waitin’ t’ hear on a couple.”

“Hey, that ain’t bad. ‘S options,” he said, reassuring. Her eyes darted down again, then she turned her head away, looking aside. His grin faltered.

“Well--” Laurey started, then sighed. “Didn’t get much in scholarships.” A beat. “Not enough, anyway.”

“Oh.”

“Gonna wait an’ see...wait t’ hear back from the others. An’ wait t’ see if they’ll offer me any more. An’...keep workin’. Savin’. Applyin’ fer other scholarships, you know...” she trailed off, lifting her hand to her face, beginning to chew lightly and anxiously on a fingernail. “...just don’ know yet.”

“‘...well, hey,” Curly began after it all sank in. “‘s a start. You’ll get there.” She didn’t respond, but still he offered a grin. “An’ if y’ don’, yer still welcome t’ join me anytime. ‘Ey, y’ could be my stage manager. How’s about that?”

“What’s it like, goin’ on tour?” she asked, a little abruptly, possibly ignoring his semi-facetious offer.

“Huh? Well -- ‘s real busy, lotta things goin’ on, but I quite like it--” he started, it having been a good while since he’d had to put it into words.

“Do you miss home? Miss yer folks?” she asked, interrupting. He blinked and stopped. They made eye contact for a second before each glanced away.

“I--uh, yeah. I do. I s’pose.” He sniffed and leaned back on his hands, considering the question. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever thought about it that much before. “I mean, sure I do. I love it here. Love my folks, you guys -- my friends.” He reached one hand up to scratch his cheek. “But I guess...I dunno. Don’ think ‘bout it too much. ‘M so busy when ‘m out, don’ have much time fer missin’ it...an’ I guess it’s all a part a’ my songs, anyway. So performin’s a bit like I’m bringin’ a bit a’ home with me wherever I go an’ spreadin’ it with everybody else.” He quieted, and looked closely at her face: contemplative, distant, vaguely melancholic. “...miss yer folks, huh?” he asked, and she looked over at him.

“...yeah,” Laurey answered. “Yeah. I do. All the time.” Now was one of the maybe two or three times Laurey got to see them in a year. It was wonderful, but it was never enough. She was quiet again for a moment, thinking, then looked away. “Don’ think I could do like you do,” she finished finally. She didn’t elaborate. Curly decided not to press. 

“Ever thought ‘bout goin’ with ‘em?” 

“To the city?” She glanced over; he nodded. She stared off again. How nice it would be, she thought, to get back out to the city with them. Or beyond. “Sure I think ‘bout it. Every few months.” A pause. “Could never work out.” A pause. “‘M here fer a reason.”

“Don’ have t’ be. Least, not ferever.” Curly offered. Laurey glanced back to him, her chin perched on her arm on her knee. Her face was tired, but attentive. “Someday somethin’ll work out. You’ll see.” 

Laurey thought about that; she didn’t look like she quite believed him, but maybe like she wanted to. If the twitching at the corners of her mouth were any indication, anyway. Curly offered her a warm grin, and she couldn’t help herself then, breaking into a bit of a smile finally. Then, heaving slightly, Laurey leaned forward and put her feet on the floor. She stood up, and lifted her arms above her head, stretching and yawning. From his place on the floor, Curly watched, leaning back, taking her in: her messy tired hair, the crease in her nose when she squints, the bit of belly poking out from beneath her shirt as it lifted with her arms. Settling, she exhaled and dropped her arms, then cracked her eyes back open and looked down at him.

“Well. ‘M tired. ‘S late. Gonna head off t’ bed,” she said. 

“Ain’ gon’ invite me t’ stay?” he responded, light and playful, the both of them knowing he was only playing now.

“Not when my folks ‘re here,” she countered, raising a brow and holding out a hand to him. “No room fer you. Guest bed’s taken.”

“‘M sure there’s a place somewhere,” he smirked, taking her hand.

“Mm, sure there is." She pulled on his arm and he did on hers. She took a step back and helped heave him to his feet, now finding herself looking up at his face instead of down. "‘S just at yer own house.”

“Maybe ‘nother time, then.”

“Maybe.” Laurey smoothed a hand over his shirt, picking off a crumb here or there. “Thanks fer the earrings,” she said, now more sincere, and looking back up to meet his eye. “‘S real sweet of you.”

“Of course.” 

“Feels funny, I ain’ got somethin’ t’ give you back.” Well, she could think of something, but tried not to.

“Naw, you ain’t hafta,” Curly held up his hands and shrugged.

“Feels funny.” Laurey puffed out a cheek.

“Call it the song, then.” He winked. As he turned for the door, she grinned again.

“Alright, yeah. Sure.” Chuckling lightly, she followed him, and handed him his coat once he finished putting his boots back on. “Merry Christmas, Curly,” she said finally, leaning against the doorframe as he bundled up and stepped onto the porch.

  
“Happy Hanukkah, Laurey,” he responded, smiling through the cold and zipping his jacket. Then he turned went back up the path to his truck to leave for home, and to undoubtedly get an earful and a half from his mother about disappearing all evening, and on _Christmas,_ no less. It was worth it. Behind him, Laurey closed the door, and yawned once again. Then, she shuffled along, turning off the lights and trudging upstairs to her room, humming quietly along to herself as she went. _Ah, but it’s cold outside._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title and summary by Billy Currington.  
> The song referenced in the chapter itself is _Baby, It's Cold Outside_ by Frank Loesser, you know the one.


	13. Merry Go Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Mary Mary quite contrary_   
>  _We're so bored until we're buried_   
>  _And just like dust we settle in this town_   
>  _On this broken merry go 'round_   
>  _And 'round and 'round we go_   
>  _Where it stops nobody knows_   
>  _And it ain't slowin' down_   
>  _This merry go 'round_

“Well, rise an’ shine, Sleepin’ Beauty,” greeted Aunt Eller as Laurey descended the stairs and rounded the corner into the kitchen. “Good t’ finally see you in the land of the livin’ again,” Eller teased. Normally a prompt riser, the re-commencement of school after break and the cold winter weather made Laurey far more of a bedbug this time of year than usual. She grunted a ‘good morning’ and shuffled past her aunt, standing on her toes to reach for a high cabinet and grab a mug. 

“Is there coffee yet?” Laurey muttered, half-yawning.

“Right here.” Her aunt passed her the french press. 

“Thank god.” Laurey took it gratefully and retreated to the table. Settling into a chair, she deliberately poured the coffee and wrapped her hands around the warm mug, bringing it to her nose first to breathe in the perfumed steam and then taking a sip. Nothing like hot black coffee to wake you up on a cold morning, she thought. 

“Grits’ll be up in a minute,” Aunt Eller said from the kitchen.

“Mm,” Laurey took another deep breath, almost asleep sitting up.

“Don’ spend all mornin’ dawdlin’ over yer coffee, now.”

“Mm,” Laurey answered again. 

There was a noise outside from the front porch, then a knock at the door. “Just a minute,” Eller raised her voice enough to be heard from the kitchen. She wiped her hands off on a towel and moved past her niece to the door. 

“Who’s at the door this early?” Laurey asked, mumbling slightly, still half lingering in sleep. She squinted an eye. Her aunt clicked the lock and pulled the door open.

“Well, good mornin’, Mister Fry,” Eller greeted, stepping back to let him in. Laurey realized who was there, and she sat up from her previously sleepy slouch, awake in half a second. Jud stepped inside, wearing his usual neutral frown. As Eller shut the door behind him he glanced around, eyes meeting Laurey’s. She focused quickly back on her coffee. “D’j’you eat yet?” Jud shook his head silently. “I’ll fix you a bowl. Put’ch’yer stuff down anywhere an’ have a seat,” Eller instructed, returning to the kitchen. Jud obeyed, dropping the duffel bag he was carrying to the floor next to the couch and shuffling over to take a seat at the table, round the other side from Laurey. 

“Mornin’, Laurey,” he greeted.

“Mornin’,” she returned.

“You want coffee?” Aunt Eller asked from the stove. “Laurey, get a cup for him, will ya?” 

Laurey set her mug down and stood, quiet and obedient. She turned and shuffled back into the kitchen. Shortly after she returned with a second mug, and a carton of cream, and the sugar dish, and set them one by one down on the table before sitting back down. Jud watched her go and come back, quiet. When she’d settled in again, he sat forward after a beat and poured some coffee into his own mug, added a cube of sugar and stirred it in.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Mm,” Laurey returned. She looked at her lap, frowning now at her choice not to get dressed before breakfast, suddenly self conscious about her pajamas. 

“Gracious, Laurey, it’d do y’ well t’ use yer words, y’know,” Eller scolded lightly, bringing out two bowls of hot grits with butter melting on top and setting them on the table. 

“I said good mornin’ to ‘im ‘lready,” she protested, sliding one of the bowls over to herself and beginning to mix the butter in. 

“Been gruntin’ so much yer startin’ t’ sound like a pig.”

“It’s early.”

“Seen you get up ‘fore dawn just t’ watch the sunrise, girly,” Aunt Eller came back with a third mug for herself and sat down. “All ‘thout a single alarm.”

“‘S freezin’ outside,” Laurey whined. “Don’ like the cold.”

“So’s I’m guessin’ you ain’t gotch’ur bag packed for school just yet, have you?” 

Laured pursed her lips and stared at her bowl, jabbing her breakfast with her spoon a few more times before having a bite. “I jus’ have t’ get dressed an’ I’ll go. ‘M almost ready. Won’ take long.” 

“Well, y’ wouldn’ wanna be late,” Eller raised an eyebrow and poured the last of the coffee into her own mug and took a sip. “An’ don’ talk with yer mouth full.”

Laurey didn’t exactly hurry, but she at least did pick up the pace a little bit with her breakfast. Finishing most of her bowl and downing the last of her coffee, she stood and brought her dishes to the sink in the kitchen. “I’ll be ready in a minute,” she said, rounding the corner and heading for the stairs, not rushing but also not taking her time.

“I’ll time you,” Eller teased and sipped her coffee. Jud poked a bit more at his bowl, not having eaten much, and moved to stand and clear away his dishes as well. “Ah, siddown, eat,” Eller held up a hand and gestured for him to stop. “Take yer time. Yer skinnier’n a beanpole, finish yer breakfast. You c’n put yer stuff away after school.” With his usual frown and silence, he sat back down and did as he was told. 

A few minutes later, Laurey reappeared downstairs, now dressed and looking properly awake, with a full backpack slung over one shoulder. Eller glanced over and smirked. “Was more’n a minute, Laurey baby.” Her niece groaned and rolled her eyes. She dropped her bag on the couch and rounded a corner to the hall closet; meanwhile, Jud, having made a more convincing dent in his bowl of grits and finished most of his coffee, began to stand again and moved to clear his dishes. Eller waved a hand. “I’ll get ‘em, don’ worry ‘bout it. You two oughta head out, don’ wanna be late.” She stood herself, moving to the hooks on the wall. “Here,” she said as Laurey came back into the living room, pulling on a sweater. “No sense in drivin’ separate if’n yer both goin’ to the same place.” Eller pulled down a keychain and tossed it to Jud, who was taken by surprise but still managed to catch them before they clattered to the floor. “Take the truck, them roads is slippery today.” 

Jud glanced to Laurey, who met his frown with her own as she pulled on the other arm of her sweater. Back to Aunt Eller, she replied with a simple “Okay,” before grabbing the strap of her backpack and slinging it back over her shoulder. She headed for the door; Jud followed. 

“Back before supper?” Eller said as they went out the door.

“Yes’m,” Laurey promised and shut it behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and summary by Kacey Musgraves.


	14. Summertime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You and I_   
>  _Bide our time_   
>  _And I miss summertime_

Not the first to arrive, but not the last either, the red pickup pulled into the senior parking lot outside the school. Jud drove the truck to an empty space not very near other cars, but also not very near the building. By that time of year, all the students who had their own cars and drove them regularly had long since claimed their own unofficially assigned spots in the lot; the fastest and the luckiest got the ones closest to the building. But Eller’s old pickup, though familiar around town, was not so familiar in the strict senior lot lineup as to have the privilege to snag a closer spot; plus, Jud usually parked further away anyway. 

He shifted the car into park and turned and removed the key; Laurey removed her earbuds and pocketed them. Normally she’d listen to the radio, but, then again, normally she’d drive herself, and she’d sing along. She took a deep breath and let it out, bracing herself for the school day and psyching herself up enough to open the door and say goodbye to the warm interior of the truck with its heaters and insulation into the cold early January air. Her breath fogged on the glass.

“Thanks fer driving,” she said, staring straight ahead through the windshield, politely.

“Mhm,” he answered. He opened the door and stepped out, backing up to grab his bag from the back seat. Laurey did the same, immediately shuddering as the dry, chilled air hit her skin.

_ “Jesus,” _ she hissed, holding her arms tight to her body. “‘S fuckin’ freezin’ out.” She shoved the passenger door closed and reached to open the back door and retrieve her own bag, regretting her present lack of gloves.

“Here,” Jud said. Laurey looked up, over the open door. Jud held out his jacket.

“You’ll freeze.”

“‘M fine. ‘S not that far to the building.”

Laurey blinked and considered it, but ultimately gave in to the cold and took the jacket, pulling it on over her sweater. It was still vaguely warm with body heat, and large in size, a little too large to fit Jud himself and plenty roomy for Laurey. She grabbed her backpack next, swinging it up onto her shoulder. Jud pushed the car door shut for her as she quickly shoved her hands into the pockets of the jacket to warm up. He clicked the keys and the truck chirped, locked. Then they headed for the building.

“Thanks,” Laurey said, moving to take it off as they neared the entrance.

“Keep it,” he said, pulling open the door and letting her walk in first. It was the side door, nearer to the auditorium and the band room, not the main entrance. 

“You’ll--” she started.

“‘S not that cold inside.” She considered this, glancing around the hallway once the door was closed, the cold air shut out. It wasn’t terribly chilly inside, but it wasn’t what she’d call toasty warm either. Nothing like sitting by the fire in the farmhouse. Perhaps her body temperature ran cooler than average, she thought, or that the building usually had the tendency of wild temperature variation from room to room; either way, she didn’t mind the thought of keeping an extra layer on. Jud sniffed and, after a moment of her thinking, kept walking down the hall. “Y’ c’n give it back after class, anyway,” he concluded. They’d taken the same car here, they were going back to the same house before supper anyway. They were going to see each other again before so long.

“Okay. Thanks.”

* * *

First period today was US history. Laurey took her usual seat near the center of the room. She set her notebook and pen on the desk, then pulled out her phone to pass the remaining few minutes before class started. Normally she’d kill time with Ado Annie, but Ado Annie was in AP gov, with the other weird little geniuses in their grade, and that was at a completely different time of day. She wasn’t particularly friendly with most of her classmates. There was that Ali Hakim kid, with whom she’d had to work on a project once last year. He'd spent half the time flirting with her, but eventually got the hint and had since moved on to other girls, like that Gertie Cummings, with whom he was currently chatting (and probably hitting on) near the back corner. Laurey did her best to ignore them, though Gertie’s laugh was far from easy to tune out, even after years of exposure. Will Parker was also in this class, but he usually arrived only just before the teacher marked him absent. Though, Laurey noticed, glancing up from her screen, today proved to be an exception, as he walked in with…

“Well, howdy there, Miss Laurey,” Curly chirped, striding in with his friend and grinning. Laurey made a face.

“Hiya, Laurey,” Will greeted as well.

“Mornin’ Will,” she returned, more nicely. He continued past her, heading towards the back of the room. Curly came right over to Laurey instead, setting his backpack down on the seat in front of her and parking his ass on the desktop. “Hi Curly,” she finally said, already expecting him to be annoying about something. “What brings you round so early? You usually ain’t rollin’ in ‘til yer ‘boutta be marked late.”

“Came in with Will,” he answered, motioning with his chin to the back corner. “Said ‘e wanted t’ talk to Ali ‘bout somethin’.” Laurey glanced over her shoulder back at them, and laughed lightly once, amused. “What?”

“Oh, nothin’.” She turned back to face Curly again, leaning cross-armed on her notebook. 

“Hm. Well. Lovely mornin’, ain’ it?”

“‘S like fifteen degrees out. No it ain’t.” 

“Always a summertime gal, huh?”

“I don’t like cold.”

“That why yer sportin’ the hottest new trend of the season? Ol’ ranch jacket over a pink cable-knit sweater?”

“We get it, the popstar knows ‘bout fashion,” she rolled her eyes and went back to her phone, checking her email. “Ain’t my coat, anyway. Jud’s lettin’ me borrow it.”

“Oh, so it’s like a boyfriend jacket kinda thing.”

She shot him a look. “He ain’t my boyfriend.”

“‘S just what they call it, I don’ name these things.” He sat back, his hands in his pockets, and held his own jacket open a little to her. “Mine’s warmer, y’know.”

“Huh?”

“My coat. Look, ‘s lined.” He showed off the soft shearling layer on the inside. He grinned, a bit smugly, as she leaned forward and felt it. “Nice, huh? We c'n trade.”

“Mm,” she agreed, sitting back, rubbing her fingers. “An’ yet I’ll sweat t’ death wearin’ another layer a’ wool. I’m good.”

He pouted a little but let it go. “Why’d Jud give you his jacket?”

“I was cold.”

“Yeah, I figured that much. I mean, when.”

“This mornin’. Drove in t’gether.”

“Ah. Explains Eller’s truck in the lot.” He spoke like it was a simple matter, but he didn’t seem to give up the thought completely otherwise. “Well, maybe t’morrow I c’n--” he started, but got cut off mid-sentence by the teacher walking in.

“Mr. Mclain, the desk is for books, not butts,” he said, like a warning, but a tired and routine one, without the energy to care too deeply, as it was a class full of seniors just back from break, and all-around an early and cold and sleepy morning. “Please take your seats where you’re supposed to,” he continued to the rest of the room, who began to break from their conversations and settle in for class, though he pointed the last bit of his statement mostly towards Curly.

“Yessir, Mister Scott.” Curly dropped his backpack to the floor and slid into the seat. Laurey exhaled and sat back, turning her phone to silent and slipping it into her bag for class. As the teacher set up the day’s lesson on his computer and the projector warmed up, Curly turned in his seat and looked back once again at Laurey. “Catch up ‘ith you after classes?” he asked, hushed, meaning the end of the day.

“Not sure yet,” she answered, also quiet. “Might hafta--”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” he interrupted as the teacher began his tired ‘welcome back from break’ spiel. “C’n text me later. Nice earrin’s, by the way,” he added, turning back forward before he got in trouble. 

Laurey blinked and remembered herself. She offered a small smile to the back of his head. “Thanks,” she whispered. He smiled back, and she could tell, even if she couldn’t see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and summary by Orville Peck.
> 
> Sorry it took a while to get to these. Thought I'd post two chapters together to make it up for the wait. More to come soon!


	15. Jump Right In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You can jump right in_   
>  _Let the music pull you in_   
>  _You can jump right in_   
>  _Oh, and lose yourself again_

_You can never tell with Laurey,_ Curly thought, _what she’s thinking, exactly. Ain’t got a text, ain’t seen her since history._ He wondered if she was avoiding him again, but he couldn’t think of a why. She’d seemed fine enough this morning; she’d seemed fine enough over break. Like they were old friends. _Which,_ he reassured himself, _we totally are_.

Classes were out now; he held his head up and kept his hands shoved snugly in his pockets as he strolled through the emptying hallways, with an unhurried air about him. By now most people had packed up and gone out to their cars to go home, or left to sports practices, drama club, or whatever else that other students did after school. Will had wrestling practice. Ado Annie had mock trial, or debate, or maybe she was busy building a computer out of bubblegum and paperclips or something while she waited for her boyfriend. Or she’d gone home. But usually she waited for a boyfriend. Curly himself didn’t want to head home just yet, either; that’s where his brothers were, anyway, and he liked to avoid them when he could. Plus he could catch Will as soon as wrestling let out and they could usually hang a bit before they were both due in their respective households for dinner. So Curly strolled the halls. Funnily enough, it was probably the one place he didn’t get swarmed with attention. Sure, folks liked him, but he was just another student, practically. Most people in their little town had known each other for years. And anyway, seeing the pop star every day in precalc dulled his shine after so long. Here he wasn’t so much Curly Mclain: The Country Star, but more Curly Mclain: The Kid Who Spends His Freetime Screwing Around On The Guitar In The Band Room After Class.

_His_ guitar (well, _guitars)_ was at home, but the school had a couple, down by the band room where they had the walls of instrument lockers, though the one he liked best (acoustic-electric, and actually stays reasonably in tune) lived in the practice room. And Curly had a couple of stray ideas for new material to kick around and time to kill. So his wanderings were not aimless today, taking him rather on an easygoing journey to the practice room. In the hallway he brushed shoulders with that peculiar Jud Fry; practically a walking scowl, that one. He did stop Curly briefly to ask if he had seen Laurey at all.

“Not since first period, no,” Curly answered honestly, not that it would have mattered otherwise. Jud merely grunted and kept walking. “Nice weather we’re havin’. Pretty cold t’day, though,” he added, tilting his head. Jud didn’t respond, merely kept walking, and rounded a corner out of sight. Curly pursed his lips, and stood for a second before continuing on his way. 

In the arts wing he could hear piano. Someone must’ve been practicing, maybe in the choir room, or the auditorium. More or less ignoring it, he continued whistling on his way, through the band room to the practice room, and pulled open the door. The piano suddenly stopped.

“Um, occupied,” came a voice, who didn’t sound too pleased. 

“Oh, shit. Hey Laur.”

“What do you want? I’m kind of in the middle of something here.” She glared at him from the bench of the keyboard. There was a book of sonatas or something on the music stand. Her backpack was on the floor, Jud’s jacket folded and laying on top. It was always too warm in here during the winter. 

“Came in t’ grab the guitar,” he said, but rather than move to fetch it from where it leaned against the wall, he came up behind her and leaned over her shoulder to look at her music. “I forgot you played piano.”

“I do,” she confirmed, not looking at him. “Do you mind?”

“Nope,” he chirped, scanning the page. Truthfully, he was pretty bad at reading music. Much of his guitar playing was self-taught and learned by ear. And anyway, you didn’t need a page of notes to pick or strum out a tune, especially when you were writing your own. “What is this?”

“It’s Mozart.” Laurey glanced at him sideways. She seemed to relax and give up most of whatever irritation she’d been holding against him. After a beat, she put her hands back on the keyboard and began to play something light and lovely. “It’s a sonata.”

“It’s nice,” Curly commented. 

“It’s classical.”

“It’s music.”

“Not like yours.”

“I c’n do more’n just country. Bet I could give it a try.” 

Laurey scoffed, raising an eyebrow derisively at him. But she stopped playing and scooted over to make a little more room on the bench. “Go ahead. Show me what you’ve got.”

Curly made himself comfy on the bench beside her, their legs pressed together. He positioned one foot over the pedal and pressed it down, but let it go again when he heard Laurey snort almost imperceptibly. _Okay, no pedal in this one,_ he reasoned, staring ahead at the page again. _Um…_ He placed his hands on the keys and started to play. He was slow and clumsy at it, making wrong notes and rhythms frequently, making Laurey stifle giggles and cringes and squirm beside him.

“You suck at this,” she mentioned after several long seconds of hearing him struggle. “Some musician you are.”

“Hey, I’m a guitarist,” he pouted. “Ain’t my strong suit.”

“I c’n tell. Here,” she said, leaning over to put her hands on his own. “Like this.” She started to guide his fingers to the right keys, but it made little difference; everything still came out clumsy and awkward. She tried another approach, swatting his hands away and playing slowly for him on her own. “Like this.” He watched closely, and started trying to mimic her right hand with his own, an octave higher. “God, you _really_ suck at this,” she said again after another long few seconds, laughing. “Can you even read music?”

“I can,” he insisted, face warm and red. “‘S just…”

“Not well.”

He pursed his lips. “Yeah.”

She sighed and stopped, swatting his hand away again. “Fine. Here, y’know this one?.” She started to demonstrate a simple melody line for him to copy. He picked it up, and she left him to it, moving to accompany it with a bass line. A beginner’s duet.

“Heard it before,” he said, wanting to glance at her and see her smile, but keeping his eye on the keyboard instead to avoid mistakes. 

“It’s a song. Heart and Soul.” She started to hum along with the melody he played, and sing a little, though mostly without words. 

“Yeah?” He trailed off with his own playing to stop and listen. Getting an idea, he got up from the bench. Laurey glanced at him, still playing, they turned her attention back to the keyboard, shifting back over on the bench and taking over the melody in her right hand and continuing the bass with her left, a little more complicated than before. He watched for a brief moment before grabbing the guitar on the wall. “Keep going,” he said, slipping the neck strap on and quickly tuning it. She glanced over her shoulder back at him as he started to play along, figuring out the chords by ear. She smiled. They played on, cycling through the verse another time before going into a bridge. Laurey helped him keep up by naming some of the chords, then they flowed back into another verse. The next time through the pattern, Curly took to picking the melody out on the guitar while Laurey accompanied with the chords. After another round through, they drew to an ending.

“That’s nice,” Curly said, grinning. “Jazzy. I like it.”

“It _is_ jazz.” Laurey raised an eyebrow at him, but she was smiling too.

“Well, there y’ go. Told you I could play more’n just country.”

“Yeah, jazz is just makin’ shit up. Don’t get too excited,” she chuckled.

“Writin’ _anythin’_ is just makin’ shit up.”

“It’s-- improvisation is not really the same.”

“They’s improvisation in all kinds’a music. Jazz, folk, country…” Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow at her. “Classical.”

“Come on.”

“You don’ think ol’ Mozart never made shit up on the fly?”

“He also wrote shit down. To be played _as written.”_

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes. “Y’know, I think Mozart may just’ve been crazy.”

“Mm?”

“Flat fucking crazy.”

“Mm, yeah. Batshit, I hear,” Laurey humored him. “Crazy, wantin’ to write down yer music fer posterity.”

“‘Ey, music only lasts fer as long as you play it. Then it don’ exist no more.” He spread out his hands in a wide gesture and shrugged. “Wanna make it last while it counts.”

“Yeah, yeah. Big words from the kid with a record contract.” Laurey waved him away, dismissively but good naturedly. “I gotta keep practicin’. See y’ ‘round.” She turned her back to him and faced the keyboard again, considering the music on the page. He chuckled once before slipping back out of the practice room, shutting the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and summary by the Zac Brown Band.
> 
> The song referenced in the chapter is Heart and Soul by Hoagy Carmichael; it's really common as a beginner's piece/duet on piano but it's actually a real song with lyrics and stuff, much more interesting than how it's usually heard. It's quite a lovely listen.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for reading! Please let me know in the comments if/what you like it because pretty much nothing makes me want to write more than hearing your feedback. 
> 
> Once again, all my love and thanks goes out to my dear friend Meg, without whom this story would not have been possible. Love you, babe <3
> 
> Yeehaw!


End file.
